Scenes from the cutting room floor and beyond
by RosarioN
Summary: How ready is Shelby to become a mother of a teenage daughter? *Don't judge a book by its cover, or a story by the first 3 chapters, read on, you may it enjoy it*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I started writing this after watching Dream On and seeing the promo for Theatricality, so now having actually seen Theatricality, this may turn out to be more AU than planned. Basically I thought the Rachel/Shelby story line was rushed, and the "It's too late for us to have a relationship" line was a load of rubbish. This is my attempt at turning things round.**

Chapter 1 : looking in the mirror

"Miss Corocan?"

The voice is not as confident as she has heard it in the past. Barely a whisper, hard to believe this is the same girl who projected such a sound when she sang that she raised the roof, brought it down and then raised it all over again at sectionals a few short weeks ago.

"I'm your daughter."

It is odd, to see yourself reflected so fully in the face and body of another. Turning to face her, I am startled once again by the striking physical resemblence between us. A younger more innocent version of myself.

She is stood at the edge of the stage, waiting, hesitant to move forward without some kind of signal.

"Perhaps I should go" she continues.

It is then I realise that I have not yet replied, so engrossed have I been in my own thoughts. Shaking myself out of my revery I also remember where we are. Of course shes my daughter, who else would give such an emotional revelation on a stage in front of a ready made audience of students? Its all about the dramatic tension.

"No!" it comes out like a command, causing her to flinch. " No" I repeat, more softly " No, I mean, please don't go" .

Briefly turning back to my pupils I bark some orders about practice being over and that I will see them tomorrow at 3pm sharp to continue where we left off. They leave the stage in a babble of whipsers and I already know that this information will be round the whole school by registration tomorrow, but right now I don't care.

I gesture for Rachel to come forward, which she does, slowly inching her way across the stage. "and Yes," I continue, I know who you are."

We are stood opposite each other now, neither of us fully sure how to proceed. I had imagined how this scene would play out over and over again in my head, prepared a little speech and learnt it off by heart, Yet now, in reality, with my heart thumping louder than I ever thought possible, and two brown eyes looking at me with a sense of longing that must mirror my own, my all thoughts leave my head.

"I'm sorry" she appologises, "It's just I heard you sing, and I realised who you were, and then next thing I know I was here….."

"Never appologise" I say, still in this odd soft sounding tone, so different from my usual bark that I can barely recognise my own voice. "I wanted to meet you too. Let's go take a seat "

Sitting in the auditorium I still can't get my mind to focus. We make awkward conversation, which serves to exemplify the fact that we are, for all intents and purposes, complete and utter strangers. My thoughts are racing at a faster pace than my mouth, and all the while I can't help but feel an increasing sense of unease. I love this person, this child, my daughter, more than any one or anything on this earth, yet here we are in the middle of a forced conversation that swings from mild chit chat to deep and meaningful.

I need time, time to gather my thoughts. The last thing that I want to do is say something that might come out all wrong, and upset and offend her, I tend to be far too blunt for my own good.

When Rachel suggest going for dinner, I know I have to say something.

"I don't think it would be a good idea" I reply, trying to ignore the way her face fell for a moment. "Today has been quite a surprise for both of us. How about we both go away, give ourselves a chance to process what all this means, and then go out to dinner in a couple of days?".

Rachel is nodding as if in agreement, though really just on autopilot. Its not as if she has a choice in the matter, and I feel like the biggest bitch in the world, but I need to step back and not rush straight in to things. Its for her benefit, as well as mine.

"Here's my number" I continue, offering her a slip of paper, "and my email address. If you need anything, just let me know, and I will see you very soon."

With that I all but run out of the theatre, before I can change my mind, and before anyone can see me cry.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 : Undomestic Goddess

As it turns out, my interpretation of 'lets give each other some time' is somewhat different to Rachel's version. She appears the following day, near the end of the Vocal Adrenaline rehearsal.

"My dads can't sew, I really need a mom right now." The eyes have taken on a doe-eyed look, which I can tell she uses to try and get her own way. I should know, I invented that look.

If we knew each other better, or, if it weren't for the fact it looks as if Toys R Us threw up on her, or if it were anyone else, I would immediately give her/them a lecture on why having a uterus does not necessarily equate to magically being able to sew. Or cook for that matter.

"Do you think you can help?"

Maria Von Trapp I am not, and I certainly do not possess the ability to start whipping up whole outfits out of a pair of curtains. That said, I do have access to the VA costume store and equipment, and she really shouldn't be going round dressed like that.

"I suppose I can" I tell her. "Follow me."

I lead her out of the auditorium and through the corridors of the main building until we reach the VA costume store and work shop. Rachel's wide eyed amazement at the racks of costumes confirms that McKinley high don't have anything like this.

I leave her there and return to finish up practice with VA. When I come back I find her flicking through a gossip magazine. She smiles as I enter and gestures to the page she was just reading.

"Do you think I could have something like this?" she asks, showing me a picture of Lady Gaga in a black dress.

"Lady Gaga?" I raise an eyebrow " I suppose its just a big _coincidence_ that you guys happen to be doing a Gaga song?"

She blushes, but stands her ground "Yes, pure coincidence."

I can spot a lie 10 miles off, but decide not to call her on it.

"Wait.." I pause, " Were you trying to recreate the Kermit the frog dress?"

She sighs. "yes, but as I said, my dads can't sew, and Mrs Bean our seamstress is on holiday, so…"

"Ok, I think I have something that may work. We did a number a while back where the girls dressed up as French maids" I riffle through a rack of black dresses in varying sizes, and pull out one that looks more or less the right size. " We can take this in a bit at the waist, add an underskirt and a piece on the front."

I can feel her eyes on me, watching my every move as I take the garment and start to thread the sewing machine. The silent scrutiny continues until I have lowered the hem, and taken the waist in by about 4 inches.

I want to say something, strike up conversation, but what to say? So how was your day? Too cliché. Have you told your dads about what happened and are they are about to launch a law suit? Too deep.

I'm about to start humming the opening bars of a Chorus Line just to break the silence when Rachel beats me to it.

"How did you learn to make clothes?" she asks.

" I didn't learn to make clothes. I learnt to _alter_ clothes." I start cutting out fabric for the checked front panel. "When I was trying to make it on Broadway, I couldn't afford to buy evening gowns or concert dresses. So I used to buy them second hand, and then alter them to fit me."

"You were on _Broadway?"_

"Yes, well no, well, sort of."

"How? When? What happened?"

Rachel is eager now, like a 3-year old asking for a fairytale. Unfortunately that particular story does not have a happy ending, nor does it have a happy beginning either.

"It's a long story" I say, that much at least is true. "which I will tell you, but not today."

I shake the dress out, and hold it up to her. "There, go try that on."

Grinning Rachel clutches the material to her and skips out the door to the ladies changing rooms next door.

I sit back down. I still have the strange feeling I had yesterday. Here we are indulging in a classic mother-daughter activity, and I feel nothing still. No bond, no over whelming desire other than to help someone out.

I can't help but wonder - what's wrong with me? This is what I wanted wasn't it? Yet why does it seem so odd…..

Rachel comes back in smiling " It's wonderful, thank you!" she rushes forward as if to hug me, but pulls herself back at the last minute, almost thinking the better of it. I plaster a smile on my face. "Your welcome" I reply.

We need to have a serious talk. But not right now, not when she is so happy. But it has to be soon.

_Xxxxxx_

_TBC _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 : Getting to the heart of the matter

Today is apparently official 'Lets give Shelby a talking to day". I only wish someone had told me that before hand so I could mentally prepare myself.

It began shortly after my arrival at school. I received a message from Vera at reception, saying that a Mr Berry had phoned and left a message, and could I return his call please, as soon as possible.

I can't say I was overly surprised, I'd been waiting for this call ever since Rachel introduced herself. My only surprise is that it took 3 whole days.

Knowing that this is one conversation that needed to be had, I decided it would be better to speak with the Berrys sooner rather than later.

Unfortunately Vera hadn't bothered to ask which Mr Berry it was that called, not that Vera would have known that there were two Mr Berrys to begin with. Dialling the number, I could only hope that it was James, as memory serves he was more laid back of the pair.

Fortunately some deity or another decided to give me a break, as a few seconds later I recognise the dulcet tones of Mr James Berry answering the phone.

"James, it's Shelby" No need for me to elaborate, I doubt there are many other Shelbys in his life that he wants to speak to right now.

"Shelby!" He exclaims "Look, before I begin I want to apologise for calling you at work, its just we don't have your home number, and Rachel is refusing to give it to us, and I really don't think this is an appropriate subject for email…"

"It's not a problem, as it happens I have the first two periods free today."

"Ok, well I don't really need to explain the reason behind my call do I?"

"No, not really."

"Good, because please forgive me here Shelby, but her other Father and I are still trying to understand how exactly she found out about you in the first place, and how you two made contact, especially as you cannot have forgotten the contract you signed."

I decide to play my cards close to my chest for the moment "what exactly has Rachel told you?"

"Rachel has been talking about some kind of cassette tape, something called Vocal Adrenaline, Les Miserables, Funny Girl, Lady Gaga and Red Chantilly lace. It's not very clear and all quite confusing, but her therapist tells us that we shouldn't push her by asking her to repeat the story over and over again. One thing we have gathered is that you are a teacher over at Carmel High School, and she went over there and found you. Just like that."

There is a pause, which I take as my cue to start explaining.

"Its more or less exactly as you understand it. I am the coach of the Glee club over at Carmel. Rachel and some of her team-mates came over to our rehearsal to scope out the competition. She heard me singing, recognised my voice, and came and introduced herself to me. I had no idea she was there. Of course I am aware that legally I cannot make contact with her until she is 18, but seeing as she was in front of me, I couldn't very well ignore her or deny it."

"No, I suppose not. But how did she recognise your voice? Leroy and I took the decision not to discuss you or reveal any thing to do with your identity until she was 18, and if as you said you didn't initiate it, we are at a loss to explain it."

Yes, and so am I, in a way that does not incriminate me. So here goes….

"Rachel recognised my singing voice from the tape."

"Tape? What tape?"

"The tape" I say "The tape I left her at the hospital" I try to make my tone light, as if I am stating the obvious, and James is the one with a memory problem.

"I don't remember a tape."

"I made a tape of me singing I dream a dream. I gave it to one of the nurses at the hospital and asked them to pass it on to you, to give to Rachel when she was older, if she asked about me."

It's a bluff, in fact its more than a bluff, it's a down and out lie and I hate the way it rolls so easily off my tongue, but I am desperate., desperate to keep Rachel in my life and desperate to avoid legal prosecution.

"I have no recollection of a tape, perhaps it was given to Leroy, I need to talk to him about it." The tone of James' voice lets me know in no uncertain terms that this little detail is far from over.

"Anyway, that is not the most important thing right now. The most important thing is Rachel. I'm afraid I can't say we are happy that this has happened right now, but it has happened and we all have to decide how to deal with it."

"Of course"

"Rachel is already very invested in this reunion. She is refusing to give us your phone number, for fear that we would call and tell you to stay away. We just want what is best for her, what will make her happy."

"As do I"

"Which is why, before we give our support and approval to this, we need to know what your intentions are."

"My intentions?"

"Well, surely this must be as big a shock for you as it is for us. Have you thought about having Rachel in your life. Do you want to be in her life?"

"Yes" I reply with a ferocity and intensity that surprises myself. "Yes, I want her in my life. I need her in my life, in any way shape or form that you and she will allow."

"well then, now we all know where we stand, perhaps we can find a way forward."

James and I talk for another 20 minutes or so, and finish up our conversation, after a reminder that he and Leroy are her parents and are the ones responsible for her, we left it on a fairly positive note that he and Leroy will not stand in the way of Rachel and I forging a relationship. We exchange numbers and agree to stay in contact.

* * *

No sooner had I finished explaining my intentions to one of the males in Rachel's life, than another one is on the phone.

Will Schuster is sumoning me over to McKinley to discuss Rachel. As a teacher I can respect his dedication and concern for his students. As Rachel's biological mother, I can't help but feel peeved about why he feels the need to talk to me, when Rachel's fathers seem to be on board with things.

"Are you ready to have a teenage daughter in your life?" he asks, in the kind of semi-patronising tone that makes me want to kick the table in front of me.

"No." I say. " But when is anyone ever ready to have a child in their life. Do I want Rachel in my life? Yes. Am I finding it strange and slightly hard to accept that she is 16 years old not a baby? Yes. But, and this the most important thing, am I willing to do any thing and everything it takes to make this relationship work? Yes."

I stand, and thanks to my natural height, the 4 inch stiletto healed boots I'm wearing , and the fact that Will is still sitting, I tower over him.

"Thank you for your concern. But Rachel and I will be fine."

With that I leave, and go to find the person at the centre of all this.

* * *

I find her in the music room pouring over sheet music. "Rachel" I call, and she smiles as she looks up.

"Hi…" her smile drops as she notices my serious look.

"Can we talk please?"

"Sure" her eyes are downcast and I hate myself for causing her to feel worried".

"First things first." I tilt her chin and look her straight in the eyes. " I love you. I have loved you since before you were born and have never stopped. I know it seems strange how someone can love someone that they don't know, as we really don't know each other, but you will have to believe me, its true. Either way, whatever happens, wherever we go from here, I will still love you, and nothing will change that.

I have thought about you endlessly over the past 16 years, especially recently. But when I thought about you, it was always my baby that I imagined, not a teenager, even though logically I know how old you are. It was only when you came to Carmel the other day and we spoke that I truly realised that you are 16 years old, and have 16 years full of memories that I have not shared and cannot be part of.

Which is why I needed, and still need, a little time to process the fact that you are a teenager, and that you have different needs, and that my role in your life will be different to how I had been imagining it.

And if I'm correct, I am probably different to how you imagined me to be too. Am I right?"

"Yes," She admits. " When I was little, and my dads would tell me off for being naughty, which wasn't very often, I used to imagine you coming in and I would run and hug you, and you would tell me that my dads were wrong to have told me off, because I hadn't done anything wrong.

And the reason why they never talked about you was because you were a Princess or a Celebrity, and no one could know who you were, but then one day you would appear, and you would bake me cookies and knit me jumpers and pass on wisdom about dating and appropriate make-up application. You wouldn't work, you'd just be home all day, ready for whenever I needed you."

"Well sweetie, you can tell from the little that you have seen of me, I am not a 1950s housewife. I am a career driven bitch who can just about boil an egg. But that's who I am, just you are who you are."

"Where do we go from here?"

"We take things one step at a time, and get to know each other, we try and build a relationship, slowly over time. I want to be in your life, whether that is as a friend, older sister, god mother, or actual mother. I am not your parent, I can't and won't over turn any decisions that your dads make for you. They say your curfew is 10pm then your curfew is 10pm, but as I said, I will be there for you, in whatever way I can. Does that sound ok to you?"

Rachel nods.

"Good. Do you think I could get a hug?"

She nods again, and walks in to my embrace. As my arms close around her, I try and remember every detail about this moment, the second time I have ever held my daughter in her life.

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 : Revenge is best served cold.

Something is up. I am not sure exactly what my kids in Vocal Adrenaline are up to, but something is definitely afoot.

I am no saint. I knew they were going to TP McKinley to try and psych them out. Its what we do. I didn't encourage it, but neither did I intervene when I heard them discussing it. It was a harmless prank after all.

Of course McKinley then retaliated, at which point I decided to be magnanimous and not kick up a fuss. Mainly because they were provoked, and also because I have better and more important things to spend my time doing than going back and forth explaining and complaining to Principal Figgins.

Anyway, I thought that was the end of the matter. Until today. Contrary to urban myth and general popular belief, I do not have VA rehearsing every night after school. Largely because Principal O'Hare made me give them Wednesdays off, something to do with the need to keep up with homework.

Which is why, when keeping my general ear to the ground, I managed to gather that there is some McKinley high related plot about to go down after school today. In an effort to avoid a turf war, I have decided to follow them, and see if I can foil whatever it is they intend on doing.

They set off in a convoy of 5 just after school ends. I sneak out behind them, and take the back route to McKinley, getting stuck behind a slow moving garbage truck in the process. By the time I have pulled in to the parking lot , my kids have already arrived.

Killing the engine, I can see them stood in the distance, looking at something, or rather someone, I can't quite make out who from this distance. My phone chirps, and in the 5 seconds between me glancing down and deciding to ignore the message that has been sent, and looking back up again, the first egg is thrown.

It all happens so quickly that it takes a second or two for my brain to catch up with my vision and for me to comprehend what is going on. They are egging someone, and just at that point in time, Carrie steps to the side, and I can see exactly who the eggs are being aimed at.

I thought to 'have your blood run cold' was the kind of thing that only happened in horror novels

I have never felt an emotion like it, and I still can't quite describe the exact feeling that came over me, it was almost like being punched in the stomach. whether it was anger, rage, or a deeply hidden and hitherto unmanifested maternal instinct to protect my offspring I don't know, but all I did know was that I had to get over there and put myself between them and Rachel.

I scrambled out of the car and my feet hit the ground just when Jessie was stepping back from Rachel. Moving faster than I ever thought possible I reach the scene as they are all sauntering back to their cars, mission accomplished.

Their backs are to Rachel who has covered her face in her hands to hide her tears, but the slumped shoulders which keep shaking are a sure sign she is crying. She is stood all alone in a puddle of shell and egg-white, the front of her clothes are stained yellow, her beautiful hair is matted with yoke and there is a nearly a fully formed egg shell stuck to the side of her head.

"what the HELL do you think you are doing" I shout.

My VA kids, clearly not expecting me to be there, jump about 2ft in the air, before slowly turning round to face me. It would be comical, were the circumstances different.

They at least have the good grace to look sheepish. Well some of them do, the others look petulant and 3 of them are so scared they are looking at the floor.

"Look at ME" I continue, " This is crossing a line. You do not EVER pick on one individual person. It is cruel, it is mean, it is bullying."

They are starting to look worried now. Serves them right. I am livid. They have seen me angry over the years, but never this angry.

"I want to see every single one of you in my office tomorrow morning at 7am sharp. Do not even think about not showing up, not if you value your physical well being. Now get out of my sight. You are a _disgrace**."**_

They all but run to their cars, fire up the engines and drive off.

I approach Rachel, and my heart just bleeds for her.

"Rachel?"

"Go away" comes the tiny voice, muffled through her hands.

"Sweetie, we have to go get you cleaned up." I take her hands away from her face, and she doesn't resist.

" I didn't know they were planning this" I say, gingerly trying to remove pieces of shell from her hair. It's all drying now and is getting hard to pick out.

She nods mutely.

"How about I give you a lift home?"

Again she simply nods and follows me limply to my car.

"Do you still live on Vine and Rosebury?" I ask.

This earns me an inquisitive look, especially for the 'still' part. That is another story I will share at some stage.

"yes"

"Will your dads be home?"

"No. Daddy's case is in closing, and Dad has his pottery class this evening, so they won't be home til late." and I have to say I am some what relieved. Speaking to James and Leroy over the phone is one thing, seeing them face to face again is another.

"Do you want me to call them?" .

"No" she shakes her head fiercely. " They didn't really like Jesse. Daddy will get all angry, and Dad will get upset."

Jesse. That boy is going to spend the rest of his life singing Soprano by the time I have finished with him. I want to ask what went on, but I don't think my probing will be welcomed.

We continue the drive in silence. Pulling up to the Berry house, I have already decided I am going inside. Memories be dammed.

Rachel to her credit at least seems to realise that she won't get rid of me that easily. She may not feel comfortable discussing the finite details of her relationships with me, but I am company, if nothing else.

Rachel opens the door and shuffles inside, me trailing in her wake.

The Entrance hall in my memories, was cream, with black and white panoramic photos. Its now light brown, and the photos of city skylines have been replaced by photo upon photo of Rachel.

"I'm going to take a shower" Rachel tells me, in a flat tone.

"Wash your hair in cold water" I advise

She raises an eyebrow

"I won't cause the egg to scramble" I explain. Yeah I've had stuff thrown at me in the past. Not for a long while, and never by students, but I am not unfamiliar with getting substances other than shampoo out of my hair.

"I'll make you a cup of tea for when you've finished." I am rewarded with a small smile.

With the sound of running water above, I allow myself the time to look at the homage to the life of Rachel Berry that covers the walls. The photos to the extreme left are of her as baby, I can't look at those they are too painful. I move 3 inches to the right and find myself looking at the kindergarten years.

Rachel, age 5 or 6, judging by my niece, on stage, holding a microphone, arms held out in exaggerated show style. Something tells me she was a pageant child. Moving along, Rachel, a little older, gripping the bar, during a ballet rehearsal, face set in concentration. Next up, school photo, slightly older still, more posed, but with a big wide smile that reveals slightly crooked teeth waiting to be corrected by braces.

Overhead I hear the water shut off, and reluctantly tear myself away to go boil the kettle. The kitchen is almost exactly the same as I remember it, and luckily I find my way around it easily.

In fact it is so familiar that I am almost overwhelmed by the memories, and I just want to turn and run, leave and never come back. But I can't, because its not about me anymore, or not just about me.

My hands are shaking as I make the tea. The soft pad of slippers on hardwood alert me to Rachel's presence. "Do you take sugar?" I ask, my back still to her, trying to force my tear ducts under control.

"No, thank you."

"Good, because I think you're out." I bring the mugs over to the table and set one down in front of Rachel.

She smells of citrus and freshly done laundry. Her skin in still flushed from the shower and she looks much younger than her years. She is staring at the mug as if it contains the all the answers of the universe. I can almost see her brain ticking, she clearly has something on her mind.

"Mom?"

"Yes"

"I…" she pauses, and then continues "I just wanted to say I don't blame you. I know you would have stopped them if you could."

"Thank you. That's nice to know. Believe me, they will be suffering tomorrow."

"I appreciate you driving me back here, but I think I just want to be by myself. I think I might get an early night."

"If you're sure" I say, because I feel as if that is what I ought to say, when really all I want to do is escape this house.

"Yes, I'll be fine. Honest."

"Ok then. I'd probably better be going home. I need to get up early tomorrow to give VA a piece of my mind."

We both stand up, I lean inward to rub her shoulder, but next thing I know I have kissed her forehead. Where did that come from? We both look a little shocked, well she looks shocked, I feel shocked. Hugs, forehead kissing? I' turning soft…

"See you soon." I say "lets do something after regional's."

"Yes." she replies.

I step out on to the porch, the door shutting behind me. The fresh air is soothing, the memories are fading, and soon I breathe freely again.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4: One step more

Every year at Regionals, without fail there is some kind of minor hiccup. This year, Carrie has just fallen off her shoes and twisted her ankle. She at least had the good grace to wait until after we had performed. Her ankle has swollen up quite badly, and a trip to the hospital is in order, except there is no way on this earth that I am leaving this building until the results are announced.

That's why I have just spent the past 10 minutes trying to get a hold of Mrs Hart the other Carmel Chaperone. Her phone keeps ringing out, with no answer which makes me believe she either left it at home, or it is still on silent from the first half.

The judges have called an hours break for lunch, so I set forth in the auditorium to find her. Last I remembered she was sat about 7 rows back from the front. Fiddling with my phone, as I try to ring her again, I take my eyes off the aisle in front of me, and manage to collide with an innocent bystander.

"I'm sorry sir.." I begin..

"no no, " he says…

And then comes the awkward pause as we both realise who the other one is we are.

"Leroy" I say, extending a hand

"Shelby" he replies, shaking it courteously,

Behind Leroy I notice James, packing up a small mountain of audio visual equipment. Its safe to say that Rachel's fathers haven't changed much physically over the years. Leroy keeps his hair close to his head, no doubt to distract from the fact it is receding, and James now wears glasses, but aside from that they are how I remembered.

I don't think I have changed much over the years, though I can't be sure, given that Leroy is now looking at me with a curious expression on his face. In fact, staring would be a more accurate word.

"How are you? What are you doing here? Did you come to see Rachel" James asks,

"I'm good thank you. And I am here with Vocal Adrenaline, I'm their coach."

"Oh, yes I forgot about that. Yes, they were quite good."

Just as I am wondering how to extract myself from this conversation, a ball of gold taffeta and energy comes running down the aisle from the opposite direction.

"Daddy!" Rachel flings herself in to James arms for a hug, reaching out for Leroy as she does. Within seconds they have a 3-way group hug going on. "How did I do?"

Leroy, who has appeared to have recovered his voice, answers "You were sensational Cupcake, as always, wasn't she James?"

"Absolutely" James nods in agreement, "Wonderful little Diva."

"Now", Leroy interrupts " Daddy has filmed it all for you, so you can upload it on to myspace, and also for you to critically evaluate your posture, and stage presence. I have done an Mp3 recording, so we can listen to it in the car and assess your pitch, and convert it to your I-Pod. Also, we took some still photos, which I think will go really well with your portfolio and your resume, and potentially a good one for the Berry family Xmas card this year."

"Thank you Daddies" Rachel beams, and I feel so completely cut off from this family unit that there may as well be a brick wall in front of me. I ought to go find Mrs Hart.

"Um" I say, I can't just walk off without saying goodbye. All of a sudden 3 pairs of eyes swivel round and look at me. Rachel extracts herself from her fathers arms and comes to face me. As she does, I notice Leroy staring at me again.

"Hi" she says tentatively

"Hi" I reply.

"What did you think?" she asks, and I suddenly realise how much my opinion means to her. It means more to her than her fathers' as they love her so much that New Directions could have stood on stage and wailed like a bunch of Alley cats and they still would have loved it and told her she was great. Rachel is a smart girl, and knows that.

"I think you are the best voice and performer in New Directions by a country mile. You sent shivers down my spine at the beginning of Faithfully, and that has not happened outside of a VA performance in a very long time."

The smile widens.

"Thank you. VA were pretty good too. I'd say something nice about Jesse if I didn't hate his guts right now."

"That's ok. Look, I'd better go, I need to find the other Carmel Chaperone. Are we still good for lunch next Saturday?"

"Yes"

"Good. James" I nod in his direction, "Leroy…can I ask? Do I have something on my shirt?"

Leroy crinkles his brow in confusion "What?"

I sigh. "You have been looking at me oddly ever since I came over. I'm starting to get paranoid."

"Sorry. It's just, I can't get over how much you look like Rachel."

"Or rather, Rachel looks like me." I joke, "seeing as I am the original."

"it's a little unnerving. that's all, you could be a much older twin…"

Not quite knowing how to respond, I simply decided to ignore it, and continue with my goodbyes. "um, yeah, it was nice to see you again. And Rachel, 1pm at Breadstix?"

I leave, and out of the corner of my eye I see them hug Rachel again. A lump forms in my throat. They truly are a loving close family, and I am nothing but an outsider. I tamp down on that thought, and head onwards to find Mrs Hart.

* * *

I arrive at Breadstix about 15 minutes early, and sit in the parking lot waiting. I have butterflies in my stomach and my mouth is dry. Its like umpteen first dates all rolled into one. Only this isn't some potential boyfriend that I can abandon if he turns out to be a looser, this is my daughter.

This is the first time we will be meeting properly, with the intention of spending time together, purely for the chance to talk, with no other task or mini crisis to take our minds off things. Our previous interactions have been characterised by long uncomfortable silences, which I'm not in a hurry to repeat.

I spy Rachel gracefully walking through the doors, so I get out and follow her in. She has been seated by the time I get there, and smiles when she sees me.

We great each other normally enough, like friends, she looks as nervous as I am, but with an under current of excitement and curiosity. We chatter amenably enough about sectionals and the ensuing results and drama

"and then Quinn, went in to labour, and everyone had to go off to the hospital. Finn said that she was shouting at everyone, and you could hear the screams from down the corridor"

"well its called labour for a reason. It hurts like hell, trust me."

"I was thinking…" Rachel looks as if she is gearing up to ask a question but we are interrupted by the server.

"and what can I get you fine ladies today?" he asks.

"I'll have the Spaghetti please" Rachel orders.

" Excellent, and for your sister?" he turns to me.

"Ha Ha" I dead pan, the "Old ones are the good ones, lunch and stand up comedy...I'll have the Chicken Salad"

"Sorry ma'am" he interrupts, " You look so much alike I thought you were related."

"We are related" Rachel pipes up almost involuntarily, but doesn't elaborate further, leaving the confused waiter to turn back to me.

"I'm" and my voice catches in the back of my throat, "I'm her mother" I say, and I feel rather giddy. it's the first time I have ever introduced myself that way to anyone.

The server, unaware of what a monumental occasion this is, simply smiles, and says " ah I see, I didn't think you looked old enough to have a teenage daughter." he winks and strolls off to place our orders, no doubt thinking I was some teenage tramp back in the day.

I turn back to Rachel who is grinning.

"well I've never told a waiter that before." I say. "What were you going to say before he interrupted us?"

Rachel's face becomes serious. " I had a question"

"Yes?"

"It's just what with Quinn and all the baby drama, I just wanted to ask.."

"Go on"

"What was it like? What happened when you gave birth to me?"

My daughter ladies and gentlemen, straight in for the kill. No easy questions, like what was my favourite colour, do I have brothers and sisters, where did I go to school? No No, out of the starting blocks and into having me reveal one of most precious and also painful memories right in the middle of Breadstix. I just hope they have enough serviettes.

I take a deep breath, have a sip of water, and begin.

"Well, your fathers had volunteered to pay for me to stay in a swish hotel room for 4 weeks after you were born, so I could recuperate in nice surroundings. Only you were over due, so instead of cancelling the reservations, I checked in there before you were born.

Even in-utero you were exhibiting signs of a true diva, keeping us all waiting in suspense, anticipating your big entrance. You were 2 weeks late, and I was huge. You were really active in those last 2 weeks, you were moving almost constantly, and I couldn't sleep.

Finally, one afternoon I was simply that tired, I feel asleep. I had a nice nap, and when I woke up I felt odd. I looked down and saw that the bed sheets were wet, and I was horrified that I had wet the bed. Which is when the pain started, and I realised that it was my waters that had broken.

I called James, and he and Leroy came and collected me and took me to the hospital. The pain was so intense, I didn't think I could bare it. Your dads stayed with me for the most part, but then I asked for some privacy when it was time to push and the nitty gritty stuff starts.

They left the room and it was just me and the midwife. I can't remember how long it took, my senses were numb due to the pain, but then all of a sudden they were lifting you up and you were crying, and I was crying.

I reached out my arms to hold you, I vaguely remember a counselling session when it was decided that it would be best if I didn't hold you, but right then I didn't care. I felt like I had won a race and I wanted my prize.

They cleaned you up, and the nurse turned round with you in her arms and I asked to hold you. She must have known, because she shook her head and said that you were to be taken straight to your dads. Her eyes looked sympathetic, but I could tell that she was judging me, because of what I had chosen to do.

They carried you out, and I don't know whether it was the drugs wearing off, or the realisation that I would never see you again, but the pain just hit me then and there. I remember them cleaning me up, and putting me to bed in a private room, and sedating me to try and get me to sleep.

I woke up at about 1 am. There was a glass of water by my bedside, and a note, written on hospital stationary saying that James and Leroy had gone home to rest and would be back first thing in the morning, and that one of them would drive me back to the hotel as soon as I was fit to be released.

I knew then, that this would be my only chance to see you. I got out of bed and made my way to the nursery. I spotted you through the glass, you had kicked your little blanket off. I went inside and walked over to you, you woke up just as I got near.

The nurse on duty came rushing up and I thought she was going to call security or something, but she noticed I had a maternity ward wrist band on.

" I had to see her" I told her, pointing at you. She checked my wrist against the name on your cot, it said "Baby Corcoran" so she knew I wasn't after abducting some unknown infant.

"Ma'am" she said " we usually look after and feed them during the first night, to give you chance to build your strength up."

"Please" I said, looking desperate. "Let me hold her."

"Alright" she smiles, " Why don't you go sit in the chair over there. I'll bring her over"

I do as I'm told, and in the next instant she's placed you in my arms. In that moment I was so happy, I had never felt anything like it before. You began whimpering, and the nurse asked me whether I was breast feeding or not. I didn't know what to say so I just nodded, yes.

The nurse said "well in that case, I'll just leave you in peace, if you have any problems, just wave"

So she went back to her desk, and I looked down at you and realised that just for that moment, only at that point in time, you were completely dependent on me, this was the one and only thing I could do for you that your fathers couldn't. So I lifted you closer and ….and I nursed you and rocked you in my arms.

And then all too quickly it was over. You had fallen back to sleep in my arms, and another nurse came in and saw me. I could tell by the expression on her face that she knew who I was and what the deal was.

She went over and spoke to the other nurse, and they both came over. The kind nurse took you from me and put you back in your cot. The new nurse began gently ushering me out, reminding me that I knew what the arrangement was, but she wouldn't tell your fathers if I promised not to do it again.

They put me back to bed, but I couldn't sleep. That afternoon Leroy drove me back to the hotel. I signed the last of the papers with a hand shaking so badly I could barely write.

As he left, to collect you and James, he said ' we can never thank you enough.' The door closed behind him. I didn't leave the room for 2 weeks. It was best that way, in case I did something I regretted. 15 days later I was on a train on my way to New York… and that is another story."

I look up, having torn my serviette into confetti, to find tears pouring down Rachel's face, her mouth open wide in shock.

"Hey" I say, " Don't cry. It was one of the happiest days of my life."

"and the w w w w orst" she sniffs.

"Yes and the worst" I agree, " but it can't be changed. I'm sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have told you all of it."

"no, I wanted to know" she insists, dabbing at her eyes. "there is so much more I need to know."

"I know, but, can I ask, for the sake of my mental well being, that I only recount one story at a time?"

"Of course" she smiles, and I dab at my eyes, to find most of my mascara has come off on the tissue too.

When the server appears with our food 5 minutes later he finds us both red faced with panda eyes. I don't suppose it is everyday someone has an emotional Catharsis at Breadstix.

That's Rachel and I, we both like to put on a show.

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Home Truths

**A/N: firstly, thank you for all the reviews, it is really encouraging to know people are actually reading this. Secondly, this chapter was so long it had to be cut in two. I have stopped it where I think the natural break was, I just hope it works.**

_**6 months later**_.

Rachel and I have fallen in to a routine. Once every third weekend or so, we set aside a day or an afternoon, where we spend time together. Some times its lunch, some times it's a trip to the theatre, some times she just comes over to my place and we watch DVDs and eat take out.

We are getting there slowly but surely. The long awkward silences have gone, and I have managed to learn some degree of tact, so the number of trips my foot makes to my mouth when I am around Rachel has dramatically reduced.

I have come to realise that Rachel does need me, just not in the way I originally wanted, or needed to be wanted. She doesn't need to be fed, clothed, rocked to sleep, have her knees bandaged or have help with her homework.

She needs female influence, someone who she can confide in and ask for guidance. As I've got to know her I have seen that though she may physically look grown up, emotionally she is still just a child. It selfish, but I am glad that I can still have some kind of influence on her.

The first time she saw my house, the one thing she couldn't get over, was the lack of photos adorning the walls and surfaces. There were precisely 3 photos on display, 1 of my parents on their 25th wedding anniversary, one of my sister and I, and the most recent school photo of my niece.

No one has ever commented about my photos or the lack thereof, but then not everyone grew up in the Berry house hold, where every square inch of the wall is covered in photos.

"Aren't you close to your family?" she asked, incredulous that I didn't have a home made portrait gallery over my fire place.

Thus launcheth the next chapter in the series of Shelby bares her soul: La Famille Corcoran.

"My mom and I are not close" I began. "Not any more. Growing up, we got on well enough, like a normal mother and daughter. Then we hit my teen years and I was hell bent on going to Broadway, and they were hell bent on me getting a normal career. My mom and I got so that we just argued and argued all the time.

My dad stayed out of it. The only thing he said was that if I went to college to study theatre then he wouldn't support me financially.

So I went off to college, studied English like a good daughter, but spent every spare minute of my time outside of class getting involved with drama and theatre. I worked double shifts at the IHOP to pay for vocal coaching and acting classes. I was determined that as soon as I turned 21, as soon as I had that degree under my belt, that I was going to go try my luck in New York.

I told my parents this the day after I graduated. They were still adamant that it was a pipe dream that could never come to any good. Which is why when I agreed to the deal with your fathers, I couldn't tell them.

As far as they were concerned I went to New York in the spring of 1994, when really all I did was board a bus for Lima, not Manhattan. They didn't offer to come visit, which is just as well."

"What about your sister?"

"My sister and I were close. Are close. But I couldn't tell her either. I didn't want to put her in that awkward position of lying to mom and dad.

She at least came out to see me in New York, after I really did get there. She came and saw every play, no matter how small, or rubbish it was. That photo of us was taken at the after party on the opening night of my first production."

"So none of your family knows about me? I'm just some thing you should be ashamed of.?"

"No" I insisted, "I have never been ashamed of you. I am ashamed of my own behaviour."

"So much so that you never told _anyone_?"

"That's not true. I told my mom"

"But you said…"

"Will you just let me finish?

For the first 3 years that I was in New York I didn't speak to my parents. We kept tabs on each other via my sister. Then my dad died unexpectedly. I realised that as much as I didn't agree with her on many things, that my mom was still my mom, and that perhaps I really ought not to cut her out of my life completely.

I started going back to Ohio once a year for Christmas, and I'd remember to send a card and flowers on her birthday. She in turn would always ring me on my birthday. It wasn't great but we were in contact at least.

Then about 8 years ago, two things happened. My sister got pregnant, and I found out I couldn't have any more kids.

It hit me really really hard. I was actually staying with my mom as I recuperated from the operation, because she was my next of kin and they wouldn't let me stay alone, and my sister had her hands full dealing with her first trimester.

I kept thinking about how this was my punishment for giving you up. This was my punishment for just handing you over and walking away. It was going over and over and over in my mind every single moment of every single day.

My mom couldn't understand why I was as depressed as I was, because as far as she knew I had no desire to even have children. One day, the torment just became unbearable, and I knew I had to tell someone or it would eat me up inside.

My mom came in to bring me a cup of tea that morning, and I just blurted it out. Then she sat down and I told her everything. She refused to believe it at first. Then she went quiet for a very long time. Finally, she turned to me, looked me straight in the eyes and called me a stupid little girl, and that she never thought that I would go so far, be so callous, just to chase a silly dream.

We never talked about it again, except when we both agreed that it would not be a good time to tell my sister about this.

6 months later my sister had a bouncing baby girl. I went to see her in the hospital, and my worst fears were confirmed. Alicia looked exactly like you did. After I held her I had to run out to be physically sick.

I knew I couldn't stay. I was longing to tell my sister why, but I couldn't, not now with a new baby and her being so happy. I heard they were auditioning for the touring production of Evita. I managed to get myself a small role, and I took it, even though the pay sucked and the schedule was gruelling.

It gave me the opportunity I needed. For 18 months it took me from state to state, giving me the perfect excuse to never go visit my sister or my mom. One day, near the end of the run, I received a letter from my sister containing photos of Alicia at age 20 months. When I dared look at them, I saw that Alicia was taking after her father, all blonde hair and blue eyes, she looked nothing like you, or rather how I imagined you to look like.

It meant I was safe to return back to Ohio, I'd already decided that I wanted to be nearer my sister.

I decided to settle in Lima, which meant that my sister was only a few hours away, and that if anything happened to my mom I could be there, but wasn't so close I felt obligated to visit regularly.

We fell in to the same routine as before. Flowers on her birthday, phone call on mine. We saw each other at gatherings at my sisters house about three times a year, but other than that we didn't communicate, with my sister working as an envoy between us both. It's been that way ever since."

"That's so sad. I can't ever imagine not being constantly in touch with my dads"

That's because your mother is too well versed in being a cold hearted bitch I want to say, but I don't.

"Don't be silly" I say, instead " I love my mom. She loves me. But its just best for us that we don't communicate that often." and I left Rachel to puzzle over that one.

The next time she came round to my house, she showed up with a framed 8 x 10 photo of herself. I recognised it as the one I saw on her dads wall, of her on stage as a small child.

She presented me with the photo, with the explanation that normal people, those who had a life, at least had photos of their _friends_ and other people they _cared about _around the place. I then proceeded to un-do all the progress we had made in the past few weeks by saying I couldn't accept it.

"why not?" she demanded "It's a copy, my dads still have the original"

"Because" I tried to explain, hating myself for the look of rejection I caught dart across her face, "that's not you."

"Of course its me"

"No, I mean. To me, that's not you. When I have photos up, they are to remind of the people I care about, in a context that is special or means something for me. That photo of my parents, it was the last one I have of them before we fell out. it's the way I want to remember my dad. The one of my sister and I was in New York, when she came out to see me.

That photo of you means nothing to me. Not because you don't mean anything to me, but because I didn't know you at that age. I have no memories to associate with it. When I think of you I think of a tiny tiny baby or as you are now. Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

"That you are still too ashamed to have a photo of me in your house, which, if I were to listen to you, no one visits you in anyway. Yeah sure I do."

"Rachel!" I exclaimed, but I knew it was no good. She's a stubborn as me and I knew it wouldn't be any use in reasoning with her.

She sulked, and we spend an uncomfortable 30 minutes until Finn arrived to collect her.

I spent the next few days feeling like the worst person in the world, and wondering how I could rectify the situation. Up until she mentioned it, I hadn't even thought about adding a photo of her to my meagre collection, but then it became my obsession, a way to prove that she did mean enough to me, and that I wasn't ashamed of her.

My salvation came in the form of my friend Rob Hughes. We were old friends from my New York days, a veritable Will and Grace pairing. He was in the touring production of The Phantom. Around the time of regionals he learnt that the show was coming to Lima and he had sent me 2 tickets with a note telling me I had better be there front row to watch, and that we could go out and celebrate his big 40 afterwards.

So a few weeks previously I had gone to see the show, and had taken Rachel with me as my guest. Afterwards we found ourselves joining the party that the cast had thrown him in the ballroom at the hotel next door. Someone had set up a karaoke machine on stage, and at some point, admittedly with very little convincing, Rachel and I took to the stage to belt out a duet.

About a week or so after our minor tiff over the photo, I got an email from Rob, saying it was great to see me again and _"I was going through some of my photos from that night, thought you might like one of you and the illegitimate kid." _

I opened the attachment to find a photo of Rachel and I, on stage, mid-duet. Neither of us are looking at the camera, we are both looking off to the middle distance of the audience, she is in full flow, arms raised, mouth open, I'm also singing, but clearly trying not to laugh at the antics of someone in the audience.

Now that was a photo that meant something to me, and expressed who we were. I had it printed out and framed, and added to my mini-display. The following week, Rachel arrived early, and I was still getting ready, so I told her to wait in the front room will I hurried back upstairs to put on the rest of make-up.

When I came back down 5 minutes later, I clocked her sitting on the arm of the sofa, staring at the photo.

"When did you get this?" she asked, picking up the frame.

"Oh that thing" I say,, "well I found the photo lying around and thought it might look quite nice in a frame. Come on, or we'll be late for our reservations." I turned to walk out, but not before I notice her gently replace the frame with a huge smile on her face.

As I said, I am learning, slowly but surely.

Any way, the last time we met up, Shelby's Story of the day, was about my time in New York. As a knock on from that, today, Rachel has come round to go through my playbill collection, from both the plays I was in, and the ones I just saw as an audience member.

She is working her way through the B's ( so sue me I keep them alphabetised) and I am trying to remember what ' 34th and 6th at 7.45" that I scribbled on the top corner of one of them. referred to, when the door bell rang.

Given that the only visitor I was expecting was currently critiquing my headshot photo, ( I think I was the only person in the world who could not pull off the 'Rachel' cut in the mid 1990s), I assumed it was the mail man or some such other delivery person.

Swinging the door open, I found the last person in the world I would have expected to grace my front porch: my mother. Talk about speak of the devil.

"Hello" she says, with an odd look of relief on her face, which quickly turns in to one of minor irritation, as I continue to stare at her dumbstruck.

"Shelby, are you going to let me inside?"

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"What am I doing here?" she parrots. "Shelby, I haven't heard from you in months, now I know that's normal for us, but then I got talking to your sister last weekend, and she confessed that save a card and a present in the mail on Alicia's birthday, she hasn't heard a peep from you properly in six months, that every time she phones you're never in, and that you keep sending her messages saying that you will catch up soon, but you never do. So I got worried and decided to come down here and see for myself what was going on."

"Why didn't you call?"

"So you could have made up some excuse to avoid me? Now I am 62 years old, so I would quite like to come in and sit down if you don't mind."

I step back and let her in, all the time my heart is pounding. I don't want to have to explain about Rachel. I want to carry on in our nice bubble where its just me and Rachel getting to know each other and no one can come along and interfere with that.

I glance in the front room. Rachel is still pouring over a playbill, in such deep concentration that I doubt she is even aware of the conversation that has just played out in the hallway. In fact I know she hasn't realised because she is the nosiest person in Ohio, and would be 'fake' reading right now while pretending not to eavesdrop.

Mom meanwhile has taken off her coat and shoes, and set down her suitcase. Suitcase? Dear lord how long is she intending to stay?

I have precisely 10 seconds to decide how I am going to handle this, without upsetting or offending 2 of the people I love the most. Given my past record, this does not bode well.

Mom turns toward the front room and spies that I am not alone. "You have a visitor?" she states

"Yeah, about that, I .."

But its too late, mom strides in to the living room, me following in her wake. Rachel, not looking up from the paper in her hands, hears feet on the floor, and naturally assumes its me returning, and chooses that exact moment to drop the m-bomb.

"Mom, did you actually meet Ramin Kiramaloo? Because…." .

Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, the word seems to echo round the room.

At the lack of immediate response she decides to look up and realises that we are not alone. "oh hi" she says to my mother, and then turns to me as if to say 'are you going to introduce us?"

Meanwhile my mother is also giving me a look that vaguely constitutes to 'did she just say what I think she just said.."

So it looks like its up to me to make with the explanations. Ok, here we go..

"Mom, this is Rachel Berry. Rachel, this is my mom Elizabeth."

There we go, I've formally introduced them. I don't need to elaborate further do I?

"Nice to meet you" Rachel slaps a showbiz smile on her face, which I know she does when she is nervous, and steps forward to shake my moms hand. "I've heard so much about you" she says, and I can't help but feel proud that her dads have brought her up to be so polite that she even knows when it is appropriate to lie.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same about you my dear as I've not heard a bean about you." Mom replies bluntly, but kindly " Shelby, perhaps there is something you want to share with me?"

Rachel, deploying her sixth sense that she claims to have, or simply just being attuned to the fact that the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife, decides to help me out, a little bit. " I guess you guys need to talk. I'll just head down to the studio and update my myspace page for a bit." And with that she hightails it out of the room and down to my basement which has been converted in to a mini-dance/recording studio.

Mom is looking at me expectantly. I chose to ignore it and go in to the kitchen to put the kettle on. If I am going to have to bare my soul again, which is getting to be a reoccurring habit these days, I want coffee, and lots of it. And I also want a minute to gather my thoughts.

Turns out that I am not going to get that minute as mom has followed me out.

"Shelby.."

"Would you like a coffee?" I ask, cutting off whatever she was about to say.

Mom, to her credit, realises that the ball is in my court here and if she wants answers then she is going to have to sit it out. "Yes, that would be nice." she reluctantly replies.

I pour us our drinks and we return to the living room. We sit, and I have taken about 3 sips of coffee before mom starts up again, and I am beginning to think the impatience is a dominant maternal trait in this family.

"Shelby, who is that girl?"

"Mom, lets not play games, I think you know who that girl is."

"May be I do, but I want you to say it."

"Rachel is my daughter. Happy now?"

"Not really, because last time I saw you, you most definitely did not have a teenage daughter."

"Mom - are you telling me you have forgotten that very long and very painful conversation we had a couple of years ago?"

"Of course I haven't forgotten, I would never forget a thing like that. I remember it very clearly, in fact I distinctly remember the part about you _giving the baby away _and not being allowed _to see her again_."

"Yes, and now she is back. I found her, or rather she found me. Sort of. It doesn't matter, the point of the matter is that we have reconnected."

"And you didn't think to tell any of your family about this?"

"Why would I? Given the way you reacted when I told you about it the first time." I shout.

We both fall silent for a few minutes, and I am grateful that I had the basement fully sound proofed, so Rachel cannot hear us arguing about her.

"You know Shelby," mom starts off slowly, choosing her words with care. "When you first told me about what you did, I thought you were lying…"

"You that I made it up?" I screeched "You thought I would make up some elaborate and painful story about being pregnant and giving away my baby, just for the hell of it?"

"Shelby, you aren't listening to what I am saying. I didn't say that I thought you lied about being pregnant. In fact, when you said you had been pregnant, suddenly a few things made a lot more sense."

"What things?"

"I'm your mother Shelby, and I know you better than anyone, despite what you may care to think. I notice things that others don't. Pregnancy changes a womans body, and some of those changes are subtle, but long lasting. You take after me when I was younger, tall, thin, and straight up and down, no hips to speak of. At least that's how you were when you left for "New York".

Now, when your sister went out to visit you that first time, and she showed us her photos, I saw the change in you. You'd suddenly developed a small pair of hips, not very big of course, but more shape than you had before. Now you could put on as much weight as you like, but fat does not give you hips, only the physical pressure of carrying and delivering a child would cause the bones in your pelvis to shift to give you hips. I should know, its what happened to me when I had you. Also, your face looked different, rounder slightly. Perhaps I noticed because I hadn't seen you in a while, or perhaps because your cousin Amy had just had a baby and the same thing had happened to her.

I don't know. But I pushed it to the back of my mind. I figured that even though we weren't on good terms, you would have at least turned to your family for support during such a life changing time as being pregnant. I convinced myself that perhaps I was imagining things, and the lighting in the photos was distorting everything.

Again, at your fathers funeral, when you went to borrow some black trousers from your sister because yours had a rip, and you found that they didn't fit properly and you had to borrow some of mine. I don't think you even realised yourself. The thought entered my head again, but I brushed it off, as I had more important things to worry about that day.

So when you told me you had been pregnant, I knew it was the truth. However I thought, or rather hoped, you were lying about the surrogacy. I hoped it was a smoke screen for the truth, that you and that Brian guy you were dating before you left, had accidentally got pregnant and decided to give the baby up for adoption, and that rather than admit you made a mistake and got pregnant outside of marriage, you went and made up a story about being a surrogate."

"But why would you think I would make _anything_ up?"

"Because I wanted to convince myself that deep down my sweet innocent little Shelby would not be so cold and unmoving as to deliberately create a child that she had now intention of keeping. That my little girl would never give away her own flesh and blood in exchange for _money, _so she could go parade around on stage in New York. I didn't like to think I raised a child who did that"

"So this is what its about? Its always the same, it always comes back to you, and your expectations, and me failing you by going off to Broadway. Why am I always in the wrong here? Did you ever stop to think that if you had just supported me, that I might not have been driven to such an extreme?"

"Yes, all the time, truth be told. But I am only human Shelby, I make mistakes just like the rest of you. Are you saying that you, even in this small amount of time that you have known Rachel, you haven't done or said something to upset her, even though you were trying to act in her best interests?"

I'm silent and mom knows she's got me.

"Ok, yes fine, I have, I'm not perfect either. But you know what the difference is mom? Rachel could turn round and tell me she wants to give up on a career and become a professional Wal-Mart greeter for the rest of her life. Would I be happy about it? Hell no, would I still get my butt down to Wal-Mart to say hello and see her in action. Yes I would."

"Well congratulations Shelby you are a stronger person than me. How does it feel up there on that pedestal?"

I am about to retort, when a younger, but equally as powerful voice cuts across the room. "What are you two shouting about?" she asks, hands on hips. "Well?" her foot starts tapping on the floor. "I'm waiting for an explanation…."

* * *

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Nothing is going on" I say

"You were shouting " Rachel insists

" we were talking loudly " I explain, mildly amused by the look she is giving me. I sense what it must be like to a member of VA and be on the receiving end of such a look on a regular basis.

"Was it about me?" she asks, and for all the bravado and confidence I see her face fall, not wanting to unwittingly be the cause of a further family rift.

"No Rachel, it wasn't." well, not directly anyway. " Not everything is about you. It was about me, me and my failures and short comings, it's the Corcoran Family favourite subject."

"Good Lord Shelby, were you always such a martyr?" My mother butts in. "Not everything revolves around you either. Not 5 minutes ago you were busy pointing out how weak and unsupportive I was."

"Well?. Did you just expect me to…"

"Enough!" Rachel shouts out, cutting us both off. "Dad and Daddy, always told me that if I had a problem with someone, I should just sit down, and tell them exactly what was of my mind. That way everyone knows where they stand, and you can figure out a way to solve it."

She gives me a pointed look. Suddenly I realise that yes, actually I wouldn't mind having my say. I am fed up with the jibes and the judgment and the sniping matches that inevitably occur every family gathering.

"She has a point" my mother says " we can't keep going on like this."

"Right, fine. You want me to get things off my chest? Well here you go" I say, turning to face my mother, I begin

"You said how you didn't understand how I could so cold heartedly give away my baby? Well you _made me_ that cold hearted bitch. When I had Rachel, I was young and naïve and had dreams of stardom. I didn't realise how much I would come to love my baby, I had no idea how much it would tear me apart to give her up. I cried every single day for 6 months. I was heartbroken, and I vowed I would never ever feel like that again, to do that I decided that I needed to stop feeling.

So the first defences went up around me. That wasn't your doing, that was my own choice. But, you helped build them up. You _never_ came to see me on Broadway. I knew you didn't agree with it, I knew you thought I was being silly, but I thought that as soon as I prooved that I had talent you would come and visit.

Every opening night I kept thinking that may be I would come off stage and find you waiting in the audience, and you'd say to me that you were sorry, and that you loved me, and missed me, and you had enjoyed my play and had read all the good reveiews. But you never came. So I had to harden myself just a little bit more to cope with the disappointment.

Then, I return to Ohio, to get a normal job, just like you've always wanted. I take Vocal Adrenaline from nobodies to National Champions within 3 years. We have taken the title every year since. With each passing year, each award, each trophy, there is still no praise from you, no congratulations, no requests to see the recordings of the victors concert.

Every year at Thanksgiving I have to sit at the annual family gathering and listen to you tell people how proud you are of Sarah. PhD in Astrophysics, tenureship at the university, made some great discovery, has a perfect husband and given you a wonderful granddaughter.

"Oh Shelbys still doing that singing". That's all you ever say. No explanations. It makes me sound like a god damn back-up singer or American Idol Reject.

All I am ever made out to be is one big disappointment. Its no wonder I'm a cold heated, emotionless cow. Its easier that way. The rejection doesn't sting so much, it means that the hurt doesn't affect you from getting out of bed and going about your every day business.

I am not as hard as nails because I want to be, I am because I have had to become that way to survive in a world where I have received so little genuine affection that I have truly begun to forget what it was like to feel loved.

My pupils respect and fear me in equal measure. My co-workers respect my achievements, but none would truly miss me if I left. I haven't had a serious relationship since the Clinton Administration. I am not immune to that, and how I have become as a result of it."

Mom is silent for a moment. Processing what I have just said. If she has been affected by any of it, it does not show on her face. She is the Matriarch of the Pokerface.

"Shelby" she says, in a somewhat gentler tone than she has used up until now.

"You are just as stubborn and headstrong as I am, and I wouldn't be surprised if Rachel has inherited that trait too." She glances at Rachel, who looks somewhat mildly affronted, but similarly realises it is true.

"When you become a mother, one of the biggest changes you need to make, as I am sure you are finding out, is that you can no longer be self centered. You must put your childs needs, their wants and desires before your own. Sometimes this involves doing things that are painful, and difficult, but you do it any way because your own needs are secondary.

I didn't _want_ to stay away from you. I have _never wanted_ to not see you. I didn't want to limit our relationship to phone calls and occasionally cards and an annual visit. But I kept away, I kept my distance because I thought that was what you wanted. I thought that you didn't want me in your life, so I didn't want to push it. I took a step back and walked away for you, because I thought was what would make you happy.

I didn't come visit in New York, or see you performe. But I read every single review of everything you ever did. I have never been to a single vocal adrenaline performance, but at the same time I am not a mind reader Shelby, how was I to know whether I was welcome? how I am I supposed to know when they were performing if you never told me ?

You can't have it both ways, you can't push me away and then berate me for not being there.

You won't apologise for going to New York and I won't apologise for not supporting that dream. I did what I thought was best at the time and I stand by that. That's not to mean I regret it, that's a whole other matter, but your father and I only ever had your best interests at heart.

And, while we are at it, you are wrong about one thing. I am proud of you Shelby. I've not always been proud of the way you have gone about things, but I have always been proud of the end result. Its up to you whether you believe me or not, but I know how I feel, and you are anything but a disapointment.

Now, I've said my piece. I'm getting too old and too weary to be having this argument every time we meet. Things have got to change. Where we go from here is up to you. We can go back to how it is, I will drive back to Akron this afternoon, and we will resume our old pattern of minimal contact. Or, we let bygones be bygones, and we start afresh and at least share news in person once a month.

It's up to you, I will stand back again if you want me to. Like I said, my feelings are secondary to your happiness,"

She sighs, runs her hands through her hair and for the first time I think she looks old. I wonder when that happened. She is looking at me, expecting an answer, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Rachel staring at me waiting to hear what I will say.

I will be the first to admit that I have done pretty well without my mother playing a regular feature in my life. That is, until 6 months ago. In these past few months that Rachel has been in my life I have found myself increasingly wishing I was able to confide in my mom and get her opinion about how I should handle all these mother-daughter issues we have been dealing with. Instead I have had to wing it, with varying degrees of success.

Having Rachel in my life has also made me realise how much I need my daughters continued presence in my life. If she were to walk away and barely communicate with me, it would devastate me. Yet here I am doing the same thing to my own mother.

"I think" I begin…" I would like us to start over."

"Well" says mom, who is trying not to look too pleased, " That would be nice."

For a moment we all just sit there, until mom speaks up again. "Do you think I could get a hug?"

Gingerly, we both stand up, and meet in the middle. I feel her arms wrap around me for the first time in years. I am not entirely unaware of the similarities between myself and Rachel, I want my moms approval just as much as Rachel wants mine.

We are interrupted by a loud sniff. Breaking apart I turn to see Rachel dabbing theatrically at her eye. "That's so sweet, I feel as if you should be playing the Wind Beneath My Wings in the background."

Mom rolls her eyes. "Dear god. I wish I knew where this tendency toward over dramatizing and the theatricality came from. Neither your father or I could carry a tune in bucket or act our way out of a paper bag."

"I don't know either" I say, "but it makes life more interesting." Eye-ing our long forgotton, nearly full mugs of stone cold coffee, I gesture toward the kitchen " perhaps I should make us another mug."

"I'll do it" Rachel volunteers.

"No, it's fine" I insist "I'd like a moment to clear my head."

Ensconced in the kitchen, I put the kettle on to boil, and through the open doorway I can hear the conversation between Rachel and my mom.

"Mrs Corcoran, would you like to see .…"

"Please, Rachel, Mrs Corcoran is my late mother-in-law. Call me Elizabeth, or Liz, or Grandma, whatever you feel comfortable with. What do you call your other grandparents?"

"I guess Grandma would be ok. That way I wouldn't confuse you with Granny Berry."

"Do you see her a lot your Granny Berry?"

"Not really. She lives out of state. Granddad never really accepted the fact that Daddy is gay. So we don't visit them all that often, though she always ditches Granddad and comes to visit us for a week in August every year. We write often though, and talk, and she always sends me gifts in the mail."

"Did she knit you that sweater ?"

From the kitchen I cringe inwardly. Rachel is wearing a blue knitted sweater with a penguin on the front. I have to admit, I have noticed the animal knitwear, and I do keep meaning to have a word with her about it. There is nothing wrong with the preppy look, but if she does want to start going to auditions in the future, she does need to consider reducing the animal theme jumpers.

"No, I bought it"

"you bought it? Really? Huh..I didn't know you could still buy that kind of thing"

My mother as subtle as a freight train. I take this as my cue to re-enter, barging through with a tray containing 3 mugs.

"Mom!" I admonish, setting the tray down. "Rachel, ignore her, she knows nothing about fashion."

Mom harrumphs "I know plenty about fashion, thank you. You are still sulking over the time when you were Rachel's age, and I told you that wearing your hair poker straight and applying heavy eyeliner made you look like Morticia Addams, and that you should inject some colour in to your life."

"I wasn't sulking over that, I was sulking because you sewed Laura Ashley patches over my ripped jeans."

"Of course I did, they had holes in them"

"That was the POINT"

"Guys" Rachel interupts. "It's ok, in fact I'm glad Mrs Cor…Grandma said it looked home made. That was the point."

My mother and I look at Rachel with confusion written over our faces.

"Some one with my level of talent and skill, will naturally always stand out from the crowd, it is both a blessing and a curse….difficult as this may be to believe, but several years ago, at the beginning of middle school, I went through I stage where I just wanted to fit in and be like everyone else.

One day, at break, I over heard this girl called Missy, complement this other girl called Cara on her sweater. Cara said that her Nana had knitted it, then all the other girls staryed joining in the conversation, talking about how their moms made them this, and their grandmothers made them that etc. I couldn't join in because, I didn't have that. I didn't have a mom, and Granny Berry doesn't sew or knit. So I went and started buying woolly jumpers that looked as if they could have been hand made. My dads thought that I liked them, so started buying me them for Christmas and birthdays, and I guess it just kind of became habbit and stuck."

Before any one can reply, Rachels phone rings, and we all get 3 bars of All That Jazz, before she answers.

"Finn!" she exclaims, "You know not to ring me when I'm at my moms house" she spirits accross the room and goes out in to the hall to finish her conversation. Heaven forbid my mother and I should be party to the teen chatter.

"It's very strange" mom says to me, as she sips her coffee "to hear a teenager refer to you as mom. Because that means if you are the mom, then I am the grandmother, which means if I am grandmother to a teenager then I am officially old. The generations have shifted."

"If you think its odd, then try being me. Every time I get called mom, I want to look behind me, as I think it can't possibly be in reference to me. To be honest, I feel a bit of a fraud, I don't really deserve the title, but the selfish part of me enjoys hearing it."

"It's all about what I was saying before" mom replies " You need to start thinking about things from Rachels side. Perhaps she likes calling you mom, because she has always wanted to be able to call someone that. In which case you need to put up and shut up and let her carry on."

"I guess you are right."

"well it has been known to happen occasionally. Speaking of families, and in light of our hatchet burying ceremony, Sarah and Phil are having a party to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary next month. Which you would know about, if you bothered to call your sister recently. But anyway, I'm hosting it as they are having work done on their house, its going to be a fairly informal affair, neighbours, friends, your cousin Amy is flying in and such. Do you want to come along? It could be a good opportunity to see everyone. Especially now that Rachel is on the scene, this could be her chance to meet everyone."

Go public? I mean aside from the people who found out by default. I suppose it would put to rest the unease I had about Rachel still thinking I was ashamed of her. I guess there was only one way to find out.

"Honestly" Rachel exclaims as she returns to the living room "Finn really needs to pay attention to the relationship calender I made him. He didn't think I had plans today."

"Rach?" I ask. "How would you feel about going to a party?"

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Once again, thank you for all the reviews, having feedback is certainly encouraging. 2 quick things**

**1) CHEESE/FlUFF alert - there is a brief moment of schmaltz, I just hope it isn't too cheesy or Out of Character.  
**

2)**If, after reading this, you are still confused as to who Brian is, go back and read Chapter 6, he is first mentioned by Shelby's mum just towards the end.**

Chapter 8: A Family Gathering

"My sixth sense tells me it isn't going to be good" Rachel exclaims dramatically from the passenger seat.

"You crave attention, I don't see the problem. If you are going to be a star, you need to learn to deal with constant attention." I tell her, my eyes still on the road ahead.

"I crave _positive _attention. This is bad attention, like, your sex tape gets leaked on the internet attention."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

Rachel and I are in the car on the way to my mothers house in Akron. The party is this afternoon. We are planning on staying the night and then heading back to Lima in the morning.

The party in question is to celebrate my sister Sarah and her husband Phil's' 20th wedding anniversary. She and Phil were high school sweethearts, who got married the summer they finished college. They would have been married earlier were it not for mom and dad stipulating that they at least get a bachelors degree under their belts before they started a family. They needn't have worried, seeing as Sarah went on to do a Masters, a PhD, and didn't have a baby until she was a respectable 32 years old.

Sarah is 3 years older than me, and about 100 IQ points smarter. She graduated high school at 16, and had her undergrad degree at 20 .Growing up she was the pretty one, with beautiful chestnut coloured hair and freckles. I was the one who my mother was once overheard as saying, 'grew in to her looks.' The free spirited and more reckless younger sister, at least until the day I signed up as a surrogate.

Despite our differences, Sarah and I were very close. Possibly because we were so different it was impossible to compare us, so very little jealousy occurred. We still are close, there was never any secrets between us, well, apart from one Rachel sized secret that is. And even that is no longer a secret…

_One week previously_

_The phone rings 4 times before someone answers. I am secretly hoping that no one does answer, it has taken me 3 cups of coffee and 5 attempts to dial the number in the first place._

_"Hi Alicia? It's Aunty Shelby, can you put mommy on the phone please?" I ask, my voice several octaves higher, and a good degree faster than it usually is._

_"Hey Shel, long time no hear" My sister admonishes gently._

_"Yes, I know, I know, I'm really sorry. Something came up"_

_"Yeah? Well you can tell me all about it next weekend"_

_"Next weekend?"_

_"Yes, mom said you were coming to mine and Phil's party. You are still coming aren't you?"_

_"Yes, yes, I am. Did, um..mom say anything else about me?"_

_"No..not really…well,, actually, yes, there was one thing, she said you would be bringing a **special** someone"_

_"Did she now!"_

_"Oh come on Shel, don't be annoyed at her. Do tell who is he? Is it serious? Have you been dating long?"_

_"It is serious, and it's um, not a male….it's a female…"_

_"Not a man? Oh…. well, ok, you know I will support you with whatever lifestyle choices you decide to make."._

_No, it's not like that…it's….do you remember back in '94 when I was supposed to be your plus 1 to Carla Ramirez' wedding, and a couple of months before I rang you and told you I couldn't go because I had been contracted to do a concert, and you got really annoyed with me, because you didn't want to go by yourself?"_

_"Yes..but Shelby that was nearly 16 years ago, you aren't making any sense"_

_"I couldn't go to the wedding because, …because I was due to give birth. It was a beautiful baby girl, she was 7lbs 3 oz, with a head full of jet black hair . She was named Rachel."_

_Silence_

_"Sarah?"_

_Silence_

_"Sarah, are you still there?"_

_Silence_

_"Please Sarah. Say something?"_

_"Iced tea"_

_"Huh?"_

_"When I was pregnant with Alicia and I had really terrible morning sickness, and nothing would stop it. You told me to drink Ice Tea to calm my stomach. And I told you that the baby books advised against caffeine, and you said, trust me Sarah, it will work, and the baby will be fine. One day I was so desperate to stop the nausea, I tried it, and it worked. I remember thinking how on earth does Shelby know about that, she's never had a baby?"_

_"I know, and I have wanted to tell you so many times over the years, you have to believe me, there just never seemed to be the right moment._

_"Well perhaps now would be a good time to start…."_

_End flash back._

"Perhaps we could just turn round and go back?" Rachel suggests.

"And break Grandmas heart? I don't think so." I tell her.

"Since when are you so concerned about upsetting Grandma? You only stated speaking to her again last month."

"Since she has taken to ringing on a Sunday morning. Do you know how many weeks of moaning and griping I will have to put up with if we turn back now. I have enough of that from Vocal Adrenaline."

"May be you could pretend I am one of your students?"

"Nice try Rach, but I think the coincidence would be too great. Besides, we couldn't look more alike if we tried."

I gesture to the fact that both Rachel and I, independently I might add, chose near identical outfits this morning. We are both wearing a variation on black v-neck, short sleeve dress, (though hers is more The Gap, and mine DKNY), our hair in a centre parting. I could cringe at the cheesy image we must present when stood next to each other, but I don't have any other appropriate clothes to change in to.

"fine, just subject me to the cruel taunts, sticks and stones may break my bones..but..

"RACHEL! I thought you wanted to meet the rest of my family. You were angry at me for not telling everyone about you."

"I do want to meet them, but I also want them to like me. For some unfathomable reason I occasionally rub people up the wrong way."

"Everyone will like you. Ok, perhaps not everyone, but if they have a problem it will be with me not you. May I also remind you, that I asked you again on Thursday if you wanted to come and you said yes."

"That was Thursday."

"It will be fine I promise. Anyway, we are very nearly there."

"fine.." she replies, and begins fiddling with the radio station, which really bugs me to no end, but I do not have the strength to argue.

As it happens, we run in to traffic and by the time I pull in to my mothers house the party is already in full swing.

I have no sooner let us in through the front door, when my mother swoops in. "where have you been?" she admonishes me, whilst wrapping Rachel into a bone crushing hug.

"There was a tailback on Main and Western" I reply, giving her a peck on the cheek and setting our over night bags down. "we're here now…Rachel the bathroom is through there"

Rachel, having needed the bathroom for the last half an hour dashes to the downstairs washroom.

Mom looks at Rachel's retreating back, and then back to me "Was there a 2-for 1 sale at the Mommy and Me store?" she asks.

"Funny" I reply. "We didn't purposefully coordinate our outfits….though speaking of…who have you told about me and Rachel?"

"no one"

"No one?"

"No one. Shelby it's not my news to tell. If you are old enough to have a child, then you are old enough to tell people yourself. I know you told your sister, but I don't think she has mentioned it to anyone except Phil"

"but.." I start, but don't get to continue as Rachel rejoins us.

"That's better" she says. "where is everybody?"

"Out back" my mom replies.

We follow her through to the back garden, where an awning has been set up, and a small stage with a 4 piece band who are busy strumming away playing background music.

A quick glance around the 60 or so people milling around shows a mix of childhood friends, current friends, and relatives.

I thought you said this would be informal Rachel whispers to me.

"Informal to my mom means inviting any friend or relative who is not physically incapacitated and not hiring the Hyatt Regency ballroom" I reply.

Before I can decide what to do next, Alicia my niece spots us and comes running toward us, nearly winding me with force that she wraps her arms round my waist for hug. "Aunty Shelby!" she shrieks " you came"

"Yes I did" I reply, lifting her up to my hip for a hug. She squeezes me tight, and rests her head in the crook of my neck. " I missed you" she says.

"I missed you too" I tell her, because I did. She was the sole object of my affections for a very long time, and I have to admit, I spoilt her rotten.

I glance up to find Rachel staring at us, with a wistful, almost jealous expression on her face.

Alicia peers at Rachel over my shoulder. "Who is that?" she asks, eyeing up the stranger.

"That's Rachel" I say " She's your cousin", as if it's the most normal thing in the world for me to be saying.

"Oh" Alicia exclaims, and I begin to wonder whether she knows what exactly a 'cousin' is, seeing as Phil's' brother doesn't have any kids, so up until now Alicia has never had a cousin.

To a not quite 8 year old, though these things don't matter. "She's pretty. Do you think she would play with me?" she says, still staring at Rachel, and I chuckle, as I sense a case of hero-worship in the making.

"Well I don't know, you'd have to ask her. Though may be in a little while, we've only just got here" I reply, setting Alicia on her feet and smoothing out the wrinkles in her party dress.

"Will you play with me later?" she parrots, looking up at Rachel.

"um, yeah, sure" Rachel replies.

"Alicia" my mother interrupts, "how about we go show Rachel where the drinks are, I think her and Aunty Shelby might like one."

"Sure" Alicia, grabs Rachel's hand and pulls her off to the awning, my mother in hot pursuit.

Smiling, I turn back to the crowds, and notice my sister making her way toward me. I step forward and we meet in the middle.

"Shelby"

"Sarah"

We hug for a good minute or so.

"It's so good to see you" Sarah begins.

"And you. You look great, I like the hair."

"for that you can thank my hair dresser, its practically all grey underneath. And here's you, not a wrinkle or grey hair in sight."

"Well, its my reward for the years worth of braces wearing that you didn't have to endure."

I can see her glancing over my shoulder slightly, "um, where's….?"

"Rachel?" I supply

"Yes, did you bring her with you?"

"Of course, she's just gone to get us a drink. I think Alicia has already taken a shine to her."

I spot Rachel making her way through the crowds with 2 drinks in her hand. She politely manoeuvres past 2 of Phil's friends and thrusts a wine glass in my hand.

"Mom" she begins " Don't get too excited, I got you non-alcoholic wine, Jesse text me to say that you kept Vocal Adrenaline in rehearsals until 10pm last night, and you ordered Chinese takeout during the break, but all you ate was 1 spring roll, plus I know you just had coffee and a banana for breakfast, so really, as a responsible adult, I don't think it is wise that you try the punch until you have at least eaten something substantial."

"Wait? You're keeping tabs on my dietary habits via Jesse? And what are you doing even speaking to Jesse?"

"That doesn't matter right now. What matters is you maintaining a healthy diet." Rachel lectures, before primly taking a sip of her orange juice.

Throughout this exchange my sister has been looking back and forth between the 2 of us.

"well little Sister, I do believe you have met your match." She concludes and turns to Rachel and extends a hand. "Hi, I'm your Aunt Sarah, wow, that's weird, I've never been an aunt before…, I have really been looking forward to meeting you."

"So have I" Rachel replies with a smile.

"I can't get over how grown-up you look, its not every day you acquire a fully grown niece."

"I guess not." Rachel casts her eyes down, at the reminder that once again, I, and one half of her family have been absent for 16 years.

Before I can say anything, Sarah notices and grabs Rachel's arm. "Hey, no, I mean this is great, I have a backload of embarrassing stories about your mother that I can share with you…there was this one time, when Shelby was 13.…..."

* * *

The afternoon passes quickly. Having eaten sufficient amounts of chicken salad and bread rolls to satisfy Rachel, I am finally allowed to start on the punch. I spend a pleasant few hours catching up with old friends and acquaintances.

As suspected, Alicia took an immediate shine to Rachel, and has followed her around everywhere adoringly, lapping up every word that Rachel says, For her part, Rachel clearly relished the adoration and idolization.

Things were going swimmingly, until, late afternoon, I accidentally bump in to Brian Davis on my way back from the bathroom.

"Shelby"

"Brian!" I exclaim.

There is an awkward pause.

"How are you?" I ask, taking in his appearance. He is slightly bigger than he used to be, his hair is thinner, and his eyes are taking on a pinkish tinge, which makes me think that the pint of Guinness in his hand is most likely not his first of the day.

"I'm good. It's been a while."

"Yes, how long..has it.."

"Been? What since you walked out and left me without so much of word goodbye and then promptly disappeared without a trace? Oh I'd say about 16 years. It was the 7th of February 1994 if I remember correctly."

"Brian, I.."

"Surprised I still remember? I'm not. I came back to my apartment to find a note from you saying that you were sorry, but it was over between us and you had to leave. I called your parents and they said something about you going to New York. It was like you dropped off the face of the earth."

"I'm sorry, if I hurt you, but we were just kids, its not like it was a serious relationship, we weren't really going anywhere"

"It might nor have been serious to you, but it was to me. You broke my heart Shelby. Why did you do it?"

"Because I had no choice. I had to end it, things would have been too difficult otherwise."

"You're talking in riddles.." he takes another swig of his drink.

"Mom" Rachel appears, "Mom, look what Grandma..." she trails off, as she spots, Brian, staring at her, his mouth open in shock.

"Shelby" he says, in odd strangled voice, and taking a step closer, I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Shelby," he repeats "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

"What?" I say "No, there isn't anything I have to say to you."

"Are you sure Shelby" he enunciates, glancing at Rachel, with a fevering look in his eye. All of a sudden it clicks in to place. Brian has done 1+1 and come up with 5.

Before I can respond he has turned to Rachel, "we'll aren't you just the image of your mother. How old are you little girl?"

"Little Girl?" Rachel is outraged, "I'll have you know I am nearly 16 years old" she squeals.

"Sixteen years old ay? And where's your daddy today?"

"Excuse me?" Rachel exclaims.

"You aren't her Father Brian" I say calmly, hoping to cut off this particular line of thought.

"I think you're lying Shelby..look at her, it's a funny coincidence don't you think, that you mystically disappear, and then turn up with a daughter who must have only been born a few short months after we split up."

"Believe me Brian, it is purely that, _coincidence. _Now, I think you should just turn around and leave please."

"No! I am fed up of people lying to me, my ex-wife, now you." He steps forward and places his hand on Rachel's arm and pulls her toward him. "Who is your daddy little girl, tell me."

I see red. "GET YOUR FILTHY HAND OFF MY DAUGHTER." I shout, knocking his arm away. He jumps back, startled.

"Rachel is MINE, not YOURS", I continue, acutely aware that all the other guests are listening intently, some have turned round and begun to stare, others are being more discrete but are clearly ear wigging. Even the band has stopped playing. If anything, I have saved myself the effort of introducing Rachel to the remaining guests who don't know who she is.

"For once and for all you are NOT her Father. Her Father is a kind, and decent man. Now I think you had better go home, before I kick you out, and don't think that I won't, because I will."

Brian doesn't get a chance to call my bluff, as Phil and his brother materialise on either side of Brian, and escort him out off the property.

"Are you ok?" I say to Rachel, my pulse still beating at a hundred miles an hour.

"mom, I'm fine, he didn't do anything. Are you ok?"

"Me…don't worry about me" I say, downing the remainder of my glass of punch. "Could you get me some water please?"

"Sure" she scurries off, toward the kitchen.

Sarah comes over. "Sorry" she says. "Phil invited him, I told him it was a bad idea. He split up with his wife a year ago, rumour has it, it was to do with his drinking…I know its not an excuse, but I don't think he ever really got over you."

"You're right, its not an excuse."

"Is Rachel ok?"

"She's fine. She was nervous about coming here today. She was worried that the attention would be on her for all the wrong reasons, and I promised her it wouldn't be,,,,and then this happened. You know, she actually wanted to lie, and pretend that she was one of my students."

"well that would never have worked" Sarah says. "For one, she is a walking talking Shelby 'Mini-Me' and for two, you would have given the game away."

"Me? I'm excellent at keeping secrets, I kept this one for years."

Sarah smiles indulgently "Shelby, your eyes light up every time you see her, or someone mentions her. When I was chatting to her earlier, your smile could have powered the national grid. It is obvious to everyone that she is not just one of your pupils."

"Really?"

"Yes really. It's cute. It's also…different"

"How do you mean?"

"well, you just never seemed the maternal type, you were always to determined and career orientated. I must admit, it weirded me out a little earlier. I mean I know you told me about Rachel on the phone, but it is one thing to hear about this abstract concept, and another thing to see it in the flesh. I never imagined you as a mother, yet here you are."

We are silent for a while, as a mull things over, until Rachel reappears.

"Here" Rachel hands me the water.

"Thank you sweetie. I'm sorry, what were you going to tell me earlier? Before Brian butted in?"

"Oh, just that Grandma gave me this." she whips out a photo and flashes it at my sister and I.

Oh dear lord.

It was taken the summer I was 17. I am posing in the back garden of this very house, wearing black drain pipe jeans and a Wham T-Shirt. I'm sporting a poodle perm that would make Diana Ross and Cher proud, and I have lipstick the colour of a London bus.

"Now I know what I would look like if I got a perm, that is, awful. So thanks mom, I think I will stick with straight hair."

"Of all the photos Grandma could have shown you, she gives you that one?" I exclaim.

" Oh that's because I just gave it back to her today. She probably had it laying out." Sarah says casually.

"and what were you doing with that photo in the first place?" I ask, with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Well, that nice Jesse boy emailed me…"

I should perhaps take the time to point out, that the senior members of Vocal Adrenaline sometimes perform as a quintet at weddings, parties, bat mitzvahs to earn a bit of extra cash. Sarah and Phil had hired them for Phil's brothers surprise 40th birthday party. I had given Sarah Jesse's email address, for them to sort out all the details between them.

"and?"

"He emailed me, so say that they were having a senior muck up day to celebrate the end of school and they were trying to get photos of all the faculty members back from when they were seniors, to hang up on the walls…"

"So you gave him THAT photo?"

"Why not, I thought it would be fun"

Rachel is besides herself with laughter.

"It's not funny" I say " how on earth will my students ever respect me when they have seen my wearing a t-shirt embossed with George Michael's head?"

"and sweat bands" Rachel splutters, pointing to the purple fuzzy material around my wrists.

Its going to be fun at work on Monday.

By early evening, I've had a few more glasses of punch, the band have stopped playing, and the number of guests has dwindled to about 30. At some stage in the proceedings the karaoke machine has been brought on stage, the bands microphone has been hijacked while people decided to take a turn as a singer.

Rachel, very patiently performs the Grease mega mix with Alicia, and is rewarded by Sarah wrangling Alicia for 10 minutes, which allows Rachel to belt out Don't Rain on My Parade, for which she receives rapturous applause,and to quote Sarah I " lit up like a Christmas Tree". Phil goes up and does his best Bryan Addams impression, to cries of "Don't give up your day job". A fair few people have had a go, when Mom appears at my shoulder.

"Well, aren't you going to get up there and show them how its done?" she asks

"I don't know.."

"Come on" she cajoles "how come everyone else has been treated to this voice of yours but not me?"

"Surely you've heard me sing?" I say

"Not properly, and not in at least 20 years" she says.

I cast my slightly alcohol muddled mind back to my first stage performance, with the local community theatre at age 11. I was Brigitta in the Sound of Music. Hmmm, not really much solo singing there. Bet, in _Oliver! _in the community production a few years later, nope, no solos there. High School, there was A Midsummer Nights Dream, ok, no singing in that one. Fiddler on the Roof, not so many show stoppers for me. Grease, in which I, due to pure nepotism missed out on the part of Sandy, and instead had to content myself with Rizzo, I got a solo or two, but nothing requiring death defying vocal acrobatics. Final year was The Crucible, again, not so much with the singing. I guess it was only really in college, when after I began intensive vocal coaching which opened up my range and developed my belt further, that more musical roles started coming my way.

Having finished my trip down memory lane, I concluded that my mother was correct. The last time she probably heard me sing, was when I rushed the stage at my sisters wedding, grabbed the mike out of the hands of the poor wedding singer, and began belting out the Dolly Parton version of I Will Always Love You.

"Ok" I say, and make may way to the mini-stage, and get handed the microphone by a bunch of Sarah's friends who have just done the YMCA.

I can feel the eyes of the party guests on me, and for some reason everyone has gone quiet and are looking at me in anticipation. I turn off the karaoke machine, mainly because I am a tad too tipsy to read the words coherently, and also because there is nothing on there that I want to sing.

Raising the microphone, I have no idea what I am going to sing, until the words come out of my mouth,

"_I've heard it said, that people come into our lives, for a reason, bringing something we must learn.."_

I have no idea why my subconscious chose it, perhaps it seemed fitting. I get lost in the moment, closing my eyes, and blocking everything out. It's just me, and a microphone, and an audience, stripped down to basics. I am flying. It reminds me why I love performing.

I finish to a huge round of applause, and some wolf whistles. I can see Rachel smiling and clapping, Sarah, pointing and laughing, and best of all, my mother, stood right at the front, clapping so hard I think her hands must be hurting, and a tears rolling down her cheeks.

I am home.

* * *

The next morning I wake feeling disorientated. Opening my eyes, I remember I am in my childhood bedroom, and in much like a scene from my childhood, my mother is in the doorway calling my name.

"Shelby!" she hisses "There is someone downstairs to see you. "

"At…" I squint at my watch "7.45am?"

"Yes. They were most insistent"

I move to get up, when I realise that I am not alone in my bed. Rachel is spooned up behind me, her arm flung over my waist. I try to extract myself from her embrace, "No" she murmurs, her forehead wrinkling in her sleep, "no" she clutches at me "It's my Tony Award. You can't take that from me, I earned it."

"No one is going to take your Tony Award, Rach" I say, kissing her forehead and loosening her grip on me

"Ok" she mutters, and rolls over on to her other side, as I succeed in getting myself out of bed.

"Does that child ever think about anything else?" My mother whispers as I hunt round for my slippers.

"And Shelby, you might want to cover yourself up." She points to the camisole that is currently masquerading as my pyjama top.

I grab the first thing that comes to hand, a discarded hooded sweatshirt of Rachel's, and fling that on, as I follow my mother down stairs.

She leaves to go make coffee and I stumble blearily into the living room, to find Brian sat there, suited and booted, and looking more sombre and sober than he did yesterday.

"Nice sweater" he says by way of a greeting and I glance down and see Mickey Mouse face plastered across my front. I should have known.

"Are you here to critique my fashion sense? Or was there another reason?"

"No" He says, "I'm here to say I am sorry for the way I acted yesterday."

"Go on" I tell him, in my best teachers voice, that is stern and commanding. Or as stern and commanding one can be wearing Pyjama bottoms and a Mickey mouse hoody.

"I have no excuse, other than, its been a hard year for me, I split up with my wife, turns out she had been having an affair for years and years. Then, our daughter got sick, and a DNA test showed that I was not her father, but this other guy was. She had been lying and deceiving me for years, to the point that I don't think I will ever truly trust anyone again.

Then you turned up, and it came rushing back on how you also just upped and left me, and then when I saw your daughter, I just saw read and thought I had been lied too once again, and that for you to have had a baby so soon after us splitting up and if I wasn't then father, then you must have been cheating on me too. I didn't handle it very well. It's the alcohol, it clouds you're judgement. All I can say, is that I'm sorry."

"You behaved inappropriately last night, that much is true. But I have not always done the right thing myself either" I tell him. "I accept your apology. And, just to let you know, I never cheated on you Brian. There are a lot of morally questionable things I have done in the past, but I have never cheated on anyone. The situation with Rachel's biological father is strange and complex, and it is not my place to explain it to you, but just know, it happened after we broke up."

Brian nods. "Do you think we might keep in touch?" he asks.

"I don't think so" I say. "I am at a different stage in my life, I am a different person to the one you knew."

We shake hands and I escort him to the front door. After he is gone, I retreat to the kitchen, to find my mother has made me coffee and eggs.

"Did he come to apologise?" she asks.

"Yes, he did." I reply. "He's got his closure now."

"I never thought he was good enough for you anyway."

"Mom!"

"It's true. it's a mother prerogative. Do you think Finn is good enough for Rachel"

"I think Finn is a well mannered young man, with a decent, though not spectacular singing voice."

"Oh Shelby, just admit it."

"Ok, yes, I don't think he is good enough. But do not tell Rachel I said that."

"As if I would. Did you sleep well?"

"So-so, Rachel kicks."

"With that girl, I wouldn't be surprised if she was practicing the can can in her sleep."

The girl in question shuffles in, yawning, with quite a spectacular bed head. "morning" she says, taking her seat at the table. "Mom? Please don't be offended but I think you are a little too old to pull off Disney.." she gestures to my sweater.

"Don't worry, you can have it back" I say, "but mind who you are calling old."

Mom puts bowl of fruit salad in front of Rachel, and begins asking her how she slept. Rachel starts animatedly recounting a rather vivid dream, complete with grand theatrical gestures. I sit back and relax and take in the scene in front of me.

If this is what having a family is like then I think I could get used to it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Reality Check.

The following Monday I arrive at Carmel, to find that the seniors have done nothing if not a thorough job. They had managed to find a photo of nearly every single faculty member. Each photo had been blown up to poster size, several copies made, and were dotted around on every wall and door in the school, labelled with our names for maximum humiliation. I found one of me on the door to my office, one on the wall of the auditorium, and one in the cafeteria.

Toward the end of the day. People had taken to scribbling comments over them with silver and gold sharpies. The one on my office door had 'wow Coach Corcoran was a hottie back in the day' and the one in the auditorium I noticed had 'MILF' elegantly scrawled across the bottom. I didn't know whether to be insulted or complemented.

Term ended and the summer holidays began. Rachel and I upped our visits to once a week for a couple of weeks, before she went off to Musical Theatre camp for a month. In the meanwhile I caught up on a few things, had Sarah and Alicia come to stay for a few days, and then went off to Chicago myself for a long weekend to visit a friend.

The weeks seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, it was the weekend before the start of the new school year. I had spent all day Saturday arranging the Vocal Adrenaline new auditions time table, and cleaning the house. I had just settled down with a glass of wine and a DVD when the phone went.

I picked up the handset to see the Berrys landline number flash across the screen.

"Hi Rach" I said, turning the DVD on pause and settling back ready for her customary introductory monologue.

"Shelby It's Leroy" a male voice says.

I sit up with a start, Aside from our awkward meeting at sectionals, I have only spoken to Messer's Berry and Berry twice since Rachel and I getting to know each other properly. Once was when they rang me to kindly but firmly, remind me that whatever happened, I had no legal rights, and that all decisions involving the parenting of Rachel were still their jurisdiction, which they would not waiver, and a second time, when I rang them to check it was ok to take Rachel to Akron with me for the night, in case they had me up for kidnapping.

"Leroy, why are you calling, is it Rachel? Is She ok"

"Rachel, is fine. Well not really, but, she isn't in any danger but…"

"Leroy!"

"She…..she was out all day with Finn. She came storming in about 2 hours ago, crying, and has locked herself in her bathroom and is refusing to come out. Her father and I have tried everything to get her to unlock the door and come out and talk. She keeps refusing, telling us we wouldn't understand.

We've tried everything, we've never seen her like this before. We were hoping perhaps you could come over and give it a try?"

"I'll be there in 15" I say, hanging up the phone.

I jump up, immediately hunting round for my car keys and my shoes. I manage to locate them quickly, get in to my car and zoom over the other side of Lima.

James meets me at the front door.

"Thank you for coming" he says, ushering me through and up the stairs to the second floor. " We were desperate.." he pauses, realising how it must sound, " no I didn't mean it like that, I meant, we thought may be it was a woman thing, and she might speak to you…"

"It's ok" I say, following him into the explosion of ruffles and playbills that is Rachel's room.

Leroy is sat on her bed staring at the closed bathroom door as if sheer will power will force it open. He nods to me as I enter, to cross and go stand by the door.

I knock lightly on the door. " Rachel" I say, "It's me,. It's…mom" and for some reason I feel awkward referring to myself as that in front of James and Leroy. Its as if they know I am not really worthy of the title, I am just the fake parent in front of these two genuine articles. I am also actually aware that they are listening to everything I say, as if this is some kind of parenting initiation test that I must pass.

"Go away" comes the muffled voice from behind the door.

"Rachel" I say a little louder now, as I am struck by a flash of inspiration "If you keep crying then the tears will irritate your contact lenses, which will little by little make your eyes less tolerant to them, which means by the age of 30 you will no longer be able to wear lenses, and as far as I know, the Andrew Lloyd Webber version of Eva Peron did not wear glasses."

I pause before continuing, "also, if you keep sniffing you will block your sinuses, and how do you expect to dazzle any new freshmen with your top F next week?"

There is a pause, then the sound of shuffling inside, followed by a click as the door is unlocked. I take this as my cue to invite myself in to the bathroom shutting the door firmarly behind me as I do.

Rachel is sat on the floor, leaning against the bath tub, legs drawn up against her body. Her face is red and puffy.

"Oh sweetie" I say, sitting next to her, and drawing her in to a hug. "what's the matter? You've got your dads all worried."

"I know" she sniffs "and I feel bad, but they just don't understand."

"Do you want to tell me? Would that be easier?"

"It's Finn…he..he.."

"Yes?"

"I caught him. Kissing Quinn. After he swore blind he felt nothing for her, and then he goes and kisses, her…which I would be angry about normally…but I especially can't believe that he did it today of all days"

"Today?" I ask confused.

Rachel sniffs, " Today was our _special_ day"

"Special day? Its not your anniversary is it?" I blunder on, and no sooner have I said the words than my brain connects the dots, and I suddenly realise I really do not want to hear the answer to this.

Rachel looks up shyly, "It was the first time, we , you know..did it.." she stutters and my theory is confirmed.

Two thoughts hit me at once. The first pleases me, that Rachel is secure enough in our strange mother/friend hybrid relationship that she feels comfortable talking about this kind of thing with me, not that I feel comfortable with hearing it, but that is by the by. The second saddens me that Rachel is so isolated from the females in her peer group, that she couldn't feel she could talk to them about this.

"what exactly happened?" I ask, "not with the…you know..but.."

"I went over to Finns today, we had it all planned….and we…well…you know….and then afterward we were really hungry so we decided to go get food. We went to Applebees, ate, and then Finn went to pay the check, and I went to the bathroom, and then when I came out, I saw him there, in the parking lot, kissing Quinn. I went up, slapped him round the face, and then got a cab back here…and now everything just hurts..my eyes..my throat..my head…my heart…down "there"…."

"Ok" I say, pushing her hair out of her eyes and giving her a squeeze "Once step at a time. First, lets deal with the physical pain. I think you should take 2 ibuprofen, and get a hot water bottle. That should take the edge off the ache" I say, gesturing to the area in the vincinty of Rachel's lap. "I'll get your dads to make you a honey and lemon drink, that should help with your throat."

"as for your heart….Rach…I'm not going to attempt to try and explain away how or why Finn did what he did, or give you a load of platitudes. I really am not one for giving any one relationship advice, given that I was more or less married to my job for a very long time. What I will say, is that when you feel ready, when you feel calmer, ask Finn to explain why he kissed Quinn. Hear him out, that's all I am saying. You do not have to believe him, you certainly don't have to forgive him, or get back together with him, just give him 5 minutes to say his piece. All I know is that in the past, I have cut people out of my life because I have not stopped and waited to get all the facts. That way whatever happens, you can know you made your decision fairly."

Rachel sniffs, and nods her head in agreement, wrapping her arms around me for a bigger hug. I kiss the top of her head. I contemplate the merits of launching in to a he's-not-good-enough-for-you-anyway lecture, and then decided against it. "How about you take a nice warm shower, and then come out and see your dads."

Rachel looks up panicked "You aren't going to tell them what I just told you are you? Daddy isn't overly fond of Finn, and Dad would never let out of the house to date again if he knew we had…."

"Rach…" I reassure her, stroking her hair " I am not so old that I have forgotten my teenage years, and how my dad reacted to some of the guys I used to date. I am not about to walk in there and tell them that Daddies little girl had sex. I will just tell them that you had an argument with Finn. If you want to divulge any more than that is up to you. Ok?"

"Ok" she agrees, and I stand up, pulling her to her feet with me.

She starts the shower, as I step out in to the bedroom.

Leroy and James jump up, and are looking at me as if I have just successfully completed a hostage negotiation in the middle east.

"She's just taking a shower," I say, "then she'll be out."

"what is it? Is she ok?" Leroy asks.

"She had an argument with Finn..the first one…she just needed someone to talk it through with. She has calmed down now..though I would brace yourselves for several days of brooding, and some more hysterics as she works things out.."

"Why couldn't she have told _us" James smarts._

"It doesn't matter" Leroy interjects, "All that matters is that Rachel was able to talk to someone. On that note, Shelby we have something to ask you."

"Go on" I say, my curiosity piqued.

"We have the American Law Society AGM and Conference in Seattle next month. Usually Rachel goes to stay with my brother and his wife, but they are having a few problems at the moment, so we don't really want to impose. We were thinking that may be she was old enough to stay by herself this year, but what with all this, and this Finn on the scene in general, I'm not sure if it would be a good idea. So we were wondering, whether she would be able to come stay with you for a week? It would just be Monday to Friday?"

"Sure, yes that's fine."

"Really? Because if its a problem, we'll get her grandmother to fly in."

"No, really, I would love to have her."

And its true. I really would be happy to have Rachel come stay for the week. Though at the same time, I begin to get a bit nervous as I think about it more and more over the course of dinner, that the Berrys invite me to stay for. I am not an easy person to live with, and I realise that domestically I am set in my ways. That comes from having lived on my own for the past 8 years, which is in contrast to the times in New York, when there would be 3 of us sharing a 2 bed apartment.

Stop worrying about it, I tell myself, in the car on the way home later. Just put fresh sheets on the bed in the guestroom, stock the fridge with Soy Milk, and remember to make sure there is sufficient hot water for the 2 of us. Rachel is 16, how hard can it be?

* * *

_3 weeks later_.

**Monday**

I arrive home to the sound of Barbra Streisand booming so loudly I can hear it in the drive way when I step put of my car. Opening the front door I am nearly deafened by the sound of 'Funny Girl'.

"Rachel" I call, needlessly, because no one could possibly hear anything over the raging decibels.

Heading upstairs I enter the guest room to find Rachel doing stomach crunches, mouthing along to the words of the music, which is blaring from the mini-hi-fi system that I moved up from the living room for her.

"Rachel" I stomp my foot on the ground, the vibrations causing her to look up and notice me.

"Oh hi Mom" she yells, "How was your day?"

"Good thank you." I shout "Have you eaten yet?"

"No"

"Ok, then there is spinach pasta bake in the freezer, I'll warm that up."

"sounds fine."

"Do you think you could turn the volume down? I can't hear myself think."

"sure. I'll be down for dinner soon."

I turn and make my way downstairs, to the thump thump of Barbra who does not seem to be quietening in the least. "Rachel" I scream, "The volume!"

"Oh yeah, sorry." comes the reply. And I swear she turns the volume down by one measly point.

Sighing. I set about reheating dinner, and suddenly Rachel's offhand comments about the Berrys neighbours filing a law suite, no longer seem to far fetched.

**Tuesday**

There is a flash storm in Lima. Thunder lightening the works. I got home to find that every single light in the bottom floor of the house and most of the top floor, is turned on. Its like a beacon in the darkness.

I follow the sounds of clattering to the kitchen, where I find Rachel, apron on, with every spare work surface covered in flour, or some other such pan or baking equipment.

"Is there any reason why this house has more lights on than the Las Vegas strip?" I ask.

"I don't like lightening" Rachel replies. "If I turn all the lights on then it is less noticeable when the lightening strikes outside."

I've had a long day, and I don't really want to start questioning the logic. Instead I settle for "and what's all this about" gesturing to the mess formerly known as my kitchen.

"I'm making my famous I'm Sorry cookies" Rachel says " I upset Tina by offering constructive criticism of her interpretation of On My Own. Apparently there was more criticism and not enough constructiveness. I'll clear it up don't worry"

"Thank you" I say, and go up stairs to take a nice bath. When I come back down, Rachel is on the phone to her fathers in the living room. I sneak in to the kitchen to find half the kitchen has been cleaned and the other half still a mess, with a mounds of dirty crockery piled high in the sink. I'm assuming her phone rang when she was half way through.

Pulling on rubber gloves, and muttering something about teenagers and messes, I begin to tackle the washing-up, wondering at what point in time I turned in to my own mother?

**Wednesday**

I step out of the car to find no glaring illuminations or blaring music. So far so good.

Opening the front door, I can in fact hear nothing, which makes me wonder if Rachel is home at all.

As I enter the living I am disabused of that notion, by finding Rachel and Finn sat on the couch, making out.

Finn it turns out, was an innocent party in the whole Quinn kiss thing. He had been walking back to his car, when Quinn, who had also being eating at Applebees had followed him out, and pretty much jumped at him and kissed him, with Rachel arriving before he could throw her off. Quinn it seems had been going off the rails slightly since giving Beth up, and had desperately been trying to rebuild her life as to how it was pre-baby gate. Finn included. This story had been corroborated by a very tearful Quinn, an upset Finn, Puck, and Santana, who had been with Quinn that day, and had followed her out to try and stop her.

Fortunately for me ( and them) they were both fully clothed, and things hadn't got too heated.

I cleared my throat.

"Mom" Rachel jumps apart from Finn. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here" I reply

"No I mean, this early"

"VA don't practice on a Wednesday" I remind her.

"Oh yeah"

"Erm" Finn interrupts " I should be going" he leaps to his feet.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" I ask

"No, its fine, I should be getting back any way" He kisses Rachel on the cheek and high tails it out of the room.

"Why didn't he want to stay" I ponder.

"He's a bit scared of you" Rachel replies. " He finds you quite intimidating. I've said that you're just a big softy really, but he doen't believe me."

" I am not soft" I say, ruffling her hair "well, perhaps with you a bit…but I do have an image to maintain." I kiss the top of her hair and go change my clothes, all the while trying not to contemplate what I might have walked in on if I had been 20 minutes later.

**Thursday**

I get a phone call just before last period, from the School Office over at McKinley. Rachel is in some kind of trouble, and Figgins wants all the parents in his office pronto.

I run round the halls trying to get someone to cover my last lesson. By the time I succeed and drive over to McKinley, the meeting has already started. Entering the room I notice Rachel, Finn, Puck, Kurt and Tina are sat sullenly in the chairs. Mr Schue is off to one side, that Cheerleading coach on the other, and what I can only assume are Puck and Finns mothers, and Tina and Kurts fathers are stood behind.

The cheerleading coach is in mid-tirade.

My plan to sneak in unnoticed is blown when I accidentally trip over the waste paper basket, causing all eyes to turn and look at me.

"sorry I'm late I say." Noting that Rachel sinks down further in her chair at the sound of my voice.

"See" Sue Sylvester gestures to me "They've even gone and caused damage to Carmel High school. What have they done this time? More tyre slashing.?"

"What?" I say confused " they haven't done anything to Carmel?"

"Then why are you here?" Sue asks

"Because the Office phoned me and told me my daughter is in trouble?" I say, gesturing to Rachel.

"Your daughter..huh…well that is interesting" I can see Sue take a minute to file that piece of information away for future use.

"What is going on here?" I ask.

"Well you see Sally, I don't take too kindly to .." and Sue launches in to an explanation that involves the Glee kids, a fog machine, 2 rubber rings, the Cheerios, some green paint, a seed sprayer, and vandalism of school property. I'm not entirely sure. All I can fathom is that Sue wants the Glee kids to be suspended. Her and Will argue. Figgins calls time, says he will not invoke a suspension, but asks us to take our respective Offspring home, and deal with them as we see fit.

I step out in to the hall and am greeted by a contrite looking Rachel. "What are you wearing?" I ask, taking in her appearance. She left the house this morning in a plaid skirt, white blouse and a grey cable knit jumper with knee socks, her hair in a pony tail. She is now wearing skinny jeans, and a low cut and overly revealing spaghetti strap top, her hair loose and curling at the ends.

She sighs. "I got slushied. That's what started the whole thing off, its like the assassination of Franz Ferdinand and World War 1. I didn't have any spare clothes, so Tina lent me some jeans and Santana lent me a top. Its most annoying, boys have been talking to my chest all day."

I resist the urge to comment, or offer her a sweater.

"well what's my punishment" she asks

"That's not for me to decide." I tell her, It's down to your dads."

"but they don't know do they?"

"Well, I'm guessing they do, as the office said they had phoned them first and then James told them to call me."

"Oh daddy is going to be so angry….you seem remarkably calm though."

"Rach, given some of the things I have done over the years, I am in no position to cast the first stone. But that doesn't mean to say I condone what you did. Come on, we are going to be late."

"where to?"

"Vocal Adrenaline rehearsal. You are coming with me."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. You are coming where I can keep an eye on you. Besides, I don't have time to drop you off and go back again."

"fine." Rachel acquiesces, not that she has much choice in the matter.

We reach Carmel, and I march in to the auditorium, Rachel trailing in my wake. Vocal adrenalin are milling about waiting to begin.

"Right. Quit talking and listen up" I bark, with my coach Corcoran face on. "We're going to be working on the u2 number again tonight, because on Tuesday you sounded like a tone deaf Cats Chorus, I am surprised the windows didn't break. Anyone not keeping up will…..erm..Mr WestWood do you have something you would like to share out loud?" I glance in the direction of one of my new freshman recruits who has been whispering to the girl beside him during my little speech.

"I was just asking Felicia who that girl is" he stutters pointing to Rachel, who is sat beside me, pretending to look bored but in reality is busy lapping up every detail about our set list. I must have a word with her about that.

"For those of you are new, This" I put my hand on Rachel's shoulder "is my daughter Rachel, the rest of you might remember her from when you indulged in an act of petty bullying and assault before regionals. She is here to watch rehearsals this evening, and I expect you to extend her the courtesy you would to any visitor to this school , so help you if you do not. Now…go down a redbull each before we begin.."

I sit back down to find Rachel glancing at me. "what?" I ask.

"It's like having my very own Barbie doll, you come in several different versions for every occasion, there's mom!Shelby, cuddly!Shelby, and just now there was Dictator! Shelby. I haven't seen her for a while."

"well that's how I get results. Just don't go telling them about Cuddly!Shelby, it will ruin my reputation." I wink at her, before turning my attention back to VA.

**Friday**

It's been a long week. Following the music, the mess, the make out session and the meeting, I am almost scared to open the door on Friday night and see what I find.

With some trepidation I step inside, and am greeted by the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack playing at you can barely hear it, background level.

I smell garlic bread, and I wander in to the kitchen to find Rachel stirring a pot of Quorn Bolognaise. The table has been set for dinner, and all the pots and pans used in the making of the bolognaise have already been washed up and are draining on the rack.

"what's all this?" I ask

Rachel hops over and kisses me on the cheek. "Dinner. I thought I would cook us a nice meal for my last night here."

She returns to the hob, and stirs.

Before I can help myself, a tear roles down my cheek. "Why are you crying?" she asks.

"I'm not" I say, batting it away. "I Just…I just used to dream of coming home to something like this. Usually I just come back to an empty house….I guess for everything that has happened this week, I have enjoyed coming home to someone…I didn't realise how much I missed it.."

"Even with the noise and the mess?"

"Even with the noise and the mess" I tell her, going over and wrapping my arms around her from the back. "I'll miss you."

"I know" Rachel says confidently.

"Cheeky!" I give her a little push.

And I will miss her, though I can also say, I will be looking forward to the return of calm and order chez moi. Deep down, though I might have been tearing my hair out, I have enjoyed playing the part of an active parent. I must have been the only person in the room on Thursday, who secretly enjoyed being there, just fulfilling a mundane normal parental role, like all the others. …..

* * *

**A/N : This was the penultimate Chapter. Next one will be the last.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: with thanks to each and every one of you wonderful people who took the time to review, I think I lost a few people along the way, but thanks to those who stuck it out until the end - this is the last chapter. There are 2 potential one-shots coming your way, set within this universe, but with a slightly different twist,( if the audience is there for them that is). watch this space.**

Chapter 10: Sweet Sixteen

Rachel turns 16 today. I can't quite believe that the tiny little baby I gave up all those years ago is 16. I am the mother of a 16 year old. How did that happen? In my head I am still 25.

One thing I never expected, certainly during the darker times of a couple of years ago, that I would be in my daughters life for her 16th birthday.

Rachel was not having a sweet sixteen party. She was under no illusions that she knew enough people or had enough friends who would want to come, and didn't want to put herself in the situation to allow for that kind of disappointment. It saddens me, as I had a party so wild we burnt the decking on the back of my parents house. But Rachel is happy enough, apparently the Glee club have organised a little get together after rehearsal next week, its supposed to be a secret, but Mr Schu it turns out is the worst secret keeper in the world.

I myself was under no illusions that I would be able to spend the day of her birthday ( a Saturday for once) with her, that was her fathers right and privilege, but I was planning on calling round on the Sunday.

I was surprised therefore, to receive a phone call from James about a week ago, inviting me out for an evening meal at **_Baguette!_** The pricier, fancier, French sister restaurant of Breadstix.

"I don't want to intrude on your family celebrations" I said, not sure whether my presence was something that James and Leroy actually wanted, or rather whether it was something Rachel wanted and they were willing to put up with.

"Don't worry" James assures me, sensing my uncertainty. "We will still be having the traditional Berry Birthday Brunch in the morning, that is our own sacred ritual between the 3 of us. The meal at _**Baguette!**_ will be for all of us. I know Rachel would like to see you there."

"In which case it's a date." I replied, feeling a lot better.

That's how I can be found peering out of the living room window on the evening of Rachel's birthday, dressed in my finery, and holding a gift bag.

A flash of lights down the street indicates a car coming down the street. A black Grande Cherokee pulls up outside my house, almost taking out the mailbox as it comes to an abrupt stop. As I look closely, I spot Rachel waving at me from behind the wheel.

Approaching the car, I notice that her fathers are in the back and that she is gesturing for me to come round and sit in the front. Confused I open the front passenger side door and get in.

"James, Leroy" I acknowledge them with a nod, and learn over to kiss Rachel on the cheek, "Happy Birthday Sweetie."

"Whets all this about?" I ask, gesturing to the fathers Berry, huddled in the back seat.

"It's Rachel's birthday present to us all" Leroy jokes "she's decided as a thank you for everything, to traumatise her parents."

"Dad! that is precisely why you are sat in the back." Rachel screeches and turns to me. "Dad and Daddy are not allowed to sit in the front, because they are incapable of being in a car with me, and not criticizing my driving skills. It is very off putting."

"I didn't say a word" James complains "I only suggested that you may wish to learn the difference between road side sculptures and road signs, in particularly those indicating speed limits. One are for purely decorative purposes to be pleasing on the eye for drivers, the other are for road users to pay strict attention to."

"Exactly, you were mean. And Dad, you clung on to the door frame and screamed slow down every time I moved out of first gear. So the pair of you forfeited a ride in the front seat, that is now reserved for mom, hopefully she will behave herself."

"Is your life insurance up to date Shelby? Perhaps we ought to have called ahead." James says.

"It's fine" I say, I mean how bad can she be?

All is calm and all is quiet until the junction before we reach _Baguette!_ "Mom" Rachel says in an indignant tone " I can't believe it, you too!"

"I haven't said anything" I protest.

"You didn't need to. I saw you, you just lifted your leg as if you were pressing on an imaginary break pedal."

"It was a subconscious involuntary action!"

"Which indicates you think I am driving too quickly"

"But. I.."

"Rachel," Leroy interrupts. "I think you need to pay more attention to the road ahead of you and less time shouting at your mother."

"Fine" Rachel smarts, but does at least make the turning in to the restaurant parking lot without inflicting injury or damage on innocent people.

Exiting the car, all tension melts away, and by the time we are seated in Baguette, everyone is back to their usual sunny selves.

The waiter takes our orders and the conversation turns back to Rachel.

"What else did you get for your birthday?" I ask "Besides the car?"

"Lots of things. I had a new I-pod, some new sheet music, Celine Dions autobiography, some new clothes.."

"I guess you don't want this then' I say with a smile, dangling a gift bag in front of her.

"ooo" her eyes lit up as she takes the bag, and proceeds to take out the contents which includes a card from my mother and 2 tickets to the Chicago production of Wicked, a card from my sister along with a generous sized I-tunes voucher. She pauses as she takes out my present…her eyes widening.

I knew that I wanted to get Rachel something special for her 16th birthday, something that would hold sentimental value, but I didn't know what. I knew that her fathers were getting her a car, but I could never compete on that level.

Then, when I was in Columbus a few weekends ago, I spotted the perfect gift.

Rachel opens the blue Tiffany's box to find a pair of gold dropper earrings with little stars on the end of them, and the matching necklace.

"They are beautiful!" Rachel exclaims, before throwing herself at me for a hug, which I gladly return.

I help her on with the necklace, as she takes her earrings out to replace them with the new ones.

"What do you think?" she asks her fathers.

"Very pretty Little Diva" They reply, smiling.

"I think so" she replies, gesturing wildly and in so doing, knocking her glass of water all down the skirt of her dress.

"shoot" she exclaims, before dashing off the bathroom to go dry it out.

"That was a lovely gift" Leroy tells me. "It must have cost a fair bit."

"Yes it did. But it was worth it to see the smile on her face."

"we know, its part of the good things about being a parent." James adds, and for some reason I become aware of a serious tone, coming over the conversation.

"Shelby, we just wanted to say, that though we were not entirely happy about it to begin with, we agree that Rachel having you back in her life at this stage, has been good for her, in ways that we never imagined." Leroy continues

I smile, my nerves settling slightly

"….and also, we know about the tape."

My heart plummets.

"The tape?" I say, trying to act innocent.

"The tape, of you singing I dreamed a dream" James continues, "That you told me you had given to Leroy at the hospital, that Rachel "found" in her baby box."

"I don't know how you smuggled that tape in to the house, or even in to the baby box, and quite frankly I don't think we want to know." Leroy adds.

"I…I.." I stutter, not sure how to continue

"We were angry, as it was an express violation of the contract. We were all for pressing charges and stopping all contact."

My heart rate begins to increase to the point of me thinking I may just have a heart attack, right then and there in Baguette.

"But" Leroy cuts in, seeing my face. " we realised that what we thought, wasn't the most important thing, Rachel is. In that vein, Shelby, we would like to apologise."

"Apologise?" I squeak, not sure where this volt face has come from.

"When we decided to have a child, we were determined to prove that a gay couple could provide an equally loving and stable home environment as a heterosexual couple.

Which is why we insisted that you play no part in her life whatsoever, that and we thought it would be too confusing for a little child to understand.

Though we proved all the cynics and naysayer's wrong, and did and continue to provide Rachel with a happy and privileged upbringing, we didn't truly realise how much a young woman needs a female influence, a motherly influence, during the teenage years, as there are some mysteries of the female psyche that we cannot even begin to contemplate.

Before becoming parents we didn't realise how it was possible to love another human being so much. We got to thinking, and we can't even imagine how hard it must have been for you to suddenly have to turn off those feelings and walk away, and we were so wrapt up in the fact that the baby was here, that we were not fully sympathetic to that. You gave us the greatest gift possible, and then we told you to walk away.

Looking back, it would have been better if you had played some kind of peripheral role in Rachel's life, as a family friend or relative, until she was old enough to understand the truth, rather than have all this come tumbling out in a large confusing mess when she was 15.

Anyway, we can't change the past, but for the future, we just wanted to say, we are glad that Rachel has forged a relationship with you, and we hope it continues."

I don't know what to say, it's a lot to take in, so all I settle for is "Thank you, that means a lot". We all know that the tape incident won't be raised again, at least not by us. Its one of those implicit understandings , of things never to be mentioned, such as how I know _exactly who_ Rachels biological father is.

Rachel bounces back to the table, skirt now dried. "Whats wrong?" she asks, at the sight of our concerned faces.

"Nothing" I reply, with a genuine smile on my lips. "Nothing at all. In fact, things couldn't be better."

THE END


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